I will miss the pieces of me that belonged to the entirety of you—the pieces that flew away with you when you flew away from me.
Some people prefer you at your worst because they are threatened by your best.
Why are we relentlessly unwilling to explore our suffering? Why do we mask our current misery with whimsical expectations of what’s to come?
Why would I want to make myself happy through someone else? That’s like cleaning your neighbor’s home when your own home is dirty or putting gas in a stranger’s car when your car is on empty.