How could I have ever for a moment believed I wasn't in love with him?
You read a lot. - Safer than going on a real adventure
I wish for the thing that is best for me.
I don’t understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It’s like we’re incapable of normal human interaction.
For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.
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?