You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.

When I love, I love: wholly, thoroughly, completely, drowning in everything. Every glance can be a conversation, eyes just playing and saying what needs to be said. Silence is loud, and the air becomes heavy. I want you. I want all of you.

I am a lover without a lover. I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself.

At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.

You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.

Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else; they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.

Two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.