You were my fortune cookie, the longer half of a wishbone. You were my four-leaf clover, my wishing star.
Loving others sincerely gives life more meaning than satisfying the need to be loved back.
On days I do not love myself, I wake up feeling afraid of myself. This body sometimes still feels like an intruder in the same home it built.
It will burn a hole in your heart.
I am a writer. People expect me to be good at being vocal with my feelings. But, in your presence, my words fail me.
Thank you for simply being here.
In this world that is already harsh, never stop believing the good in everyone.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever love another human being again like this, because you have me—you have my heart.