Regret swallows broken men whole. Acceptance builds them anew.

People who make mistakes are in the best position to make better choices.

Unconditional love is something people achieve once they’ve given themselves over completely to someone. Once they’ve decided that no matter what the other person does, they will always love them.

When a heart breaks a substance spills out like cement and pours through the bloodstream, hardening everything. In time, I know my heart will mend and the rock inside will crack and crumble away. But for now I’m as solid as a column. And alone I stand.

If my time loving you has taught me anything, it’s that love grows with every returned smile, every second of communal silence and every word exchanged. Unconditional love is built and when it’s finished nothing destroys it.

Love, deep and pure, it opens my heart. It feels like a magical force, one I’d fight to protect, one I’d die to keep.

Not the way he looks, but specifically the way he looks at me threatens my inhibitions. It’s all greedy yearning.

Taking a risk to survive isn’t that impressive. Taking a risk to be happy, that takes guts.

You don’t want to wake up and realize you could have been happy, that the risks would have been worth it, but you dwindled away your chances.

Tears ache in my throat and each time his lips caress mine I’m closer to the dam within me bursting open. He’s undoing me, tearing out my demons with burning strokes of his lips and the salty taste of his mouth. In his arms, I’m changing, becoming anew.

He makes me weak and vulnerable and absolutely perfect in all of my flaws. Like a human.

Love isn’t governed by logic or understanding. You don’t enter into it like an agreement. It crashes down on you. You wake up one morning and realize the reason you can’t take your eyes off someone is because you’re in love with them.

I know how it fees to plead. I know how it feels to wish someone would give you a chance to help them.

No one ever told me how sorrow traumatizes your heart, making you think it will never beat exactly the same way again. No one ever told me how grief feels like a wet sock in my mouth. One I’m forced to breathe through, thinking that with each breath I’ll come up short and suffocate.

We’re all just a conglomeration of our nervous habits. I see them like road maps in each conversation telling me more about the people than their words. stripping people of simple things weakens them.

Even when I don’t know the people, I still find their faults. Or invent them.

Right now in this space, I feel a brand new pull to him. I’ve always been drawn to his features, his brilliance, his laughter, his passion. But right now I’m attracted to his pain. It makes him human. It makes him real. It makes him something he hardly ever is to me: accessible.

The belongings people accumulate throughout their lives will always own them. People seem to think if they had more they’d be happier or freer, but their possessions only chain them to the earth.

My dark secret is I’ve always wished I was Gatsby. As heartbroken as he was and as horrible a fate as he endured, I admired that he loved. It’s a difficult thing to do.

You know, sometimes even when two people love each other the universe still conspires against them, forces them apart.

Most people aren’t happy. They sing songs like they are. Make up cute little stories. Post pics of the rare times when life wasn’t dreadful. Most people are stomaching this whole affair called life. Are these people complainers? Probably. Most are. But they’re also just blokes who’re too afraid to take a risk. So they...

I’m an anchor and he is the sea and I sink into his tenderness as he presses my hand to his heart.

My heart is kerosene, my mind a match. I’m seconds away from igniting.

Millions of pages cloaked in dust and inspiration and wisdom.

One of the many reasons I love libraries. Everyone is lost and not wanting to be found in a library.

The world is dictated by our desires rather than our thoughts. The prior puts the latter in motion.

Wars are won from a wink, a gesture, an event that transpired a millennium before the battle. Humanity has always been saved by small acts; the ones where someone gained a piece of their own puzzle, not the ones where a hero stood prodigious on a battlefield.

Don’t make loss in your life make you a loser.

Denial has rented a room in my head and frequently stomps around slamming doors.