Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is to not make the same mistake twice.

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.

What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.

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 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.

Life isn't about what you get, it's about what you DO with what you get.