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

My smile wavers as I revert to my natural state of being: nervous and weird.

Just because something isn't practical doesn't mean it's not worth creating. Sometimes beauty and real-life magic are enough.

The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.

I don't believe in fashion. I believe in costume. Life is too short to be same person every day.

How many times can our emotions be tied to someone else's - be pulled and stretched and twisted - before they snap? Before they can never be mended again?

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."