When you finally understand what it meant, the truth will leave your lips. Not as words. But a sound at the back of your throat.

Each week, you trade 5 days for 2. That doesn't sound right to me.

Fine. Maybe I'm the puzzle. But you're still the pieces.

You and I, we are special because of each other. In spite of loneliness.

As you drift further into the past, my memory of you fractures and splinters until all I can clearly remember is not a picture but a feeling.

All I can do, if I feel this way, is trust that somewhere in the universe, there's a you that feels the same.

And if you can't say yes, answer anyway. Because I'd rather live with the answer than die with the question.

Others are going to start doing the things you talk about doing. The right time to start, is right now.

No storm is so bad that you can't learn something from it. You can grow in a storm. You can thrive. Rain cleans the air.

I don't care if the things you say sound corny or like cliches because cliches are usually true. And that's all that fucking matters right now.

You will hear it and no one else will, like your soul wears headphones and only it can hear the music.

Not until you understand that to want is not to need and that love is meant for people, not things.

I was so busy missing you, I missed someone else standing right in front of me. Now I’m missing them instead.

Sometimes, you’re the entire universe and all it contains and we are just actors in your dream.