Love always hurts. That’s one thing I know you know. But it’s worth it. That’s what you don’t know. Yet.

It was like she was MADE of cake, light and pretty and decorated on the outside-with her sweet laugh and pink streak to her hair-but it was anyone's guess what was on the inside.

It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.

She looked like autumn, when leaves turned and fruit ripened.

How we see the world changes all the time. It all depends on our mood.

When your cup is empty, you do not mourn what is gone. Because if you do, you will miss the opportunity to fill it again.

Her friendship . . . still existed, as if it was a living, breathing thing, something that came to life the moment it happened and didn't just go away because they no longer acknowledged it.