The musician and the listener. If this is love between two strangers watching each other from afar, that rough, burning moment when you rush in and kiss is the show.

It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.

He laughed. I suddenly wanted to laugh, to laugh with him, to sit here, or maybe outside in the rain, and just laugh with him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even smile.

I’m afraid I’ll be a book that no one reads. Music that no one listens to anymore. I’m afraid I’ll be abandoned like a movie playing in an empty theater.

Some lessons are only delivered in the form of pain.

Maybe the start line was supposed to be your finish line. Don’t be afraid to walk backwards.

What's the point of beauty if it's only seen by one?