For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.

I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I'm not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it.

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you."

I wish the world would swallow us here, whole, in this moment. And that's when it hits me that this - this - is falling in love.

I didn't know it was possible to simultaneously hate and ache for someone.

You should show encouragement whenever you can. People try harder when they know that someone cares about them.

I don’t understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It’s like we’re incapable of normal human interaction.