Part Of Love Is Letting A Person

The Boy I Just Kissed Is Talking To My Father. The Boy I Want To Kiss Again Is Waiting For My Mother To Serve Pancakes. I Must Fight The Urge To Freak.

This, I Think, Is How People Survive: Even When Horrible Things Have Been Done To Us, We Can Still Find Gratitude In One Another.

I Have Become Very Good At Clearing Histories.

I Have Already Spent Roughly Five Thousand Hours Asleep Next To You. This Has To Mean Something.

Love Weaves Itself From Hundreds Of Threads.