I find that the more I depend on real life, the less interesting the story is. It's much more common for me to take something that almost-happened, or I wish had happened, and then follow that possibility.

I'd known enough people for every minute of the day, and yet still didn't have anyone as my two a.m.

We laughed ourselves silly, taking back our shared past, gently, piece by piece.

It’s funny how one summer can change everything.

I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it's perfect... As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.

It doesn't matter, anyway, why you like me. Just that you do.

I knew that it wouldn’t last. It was just a moment, a perfect moment, as time stood still and fleetingly everything fell back into its proper place.