"You don’t have to apologize for the things you didn’t become.”

"Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”

"We find art in those who are most broken by life.”

"The pendulum of the mind oscillates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.”

"No matter how educated, talented, rich or cool you believe you are, how you treat people ultimately tells all.”

"When you get to know someone, there comes a point where their physical attributes begin to disappear before your very eyes. You become enveloped in their energy, recognize the smell of their skin. You see the actual person, not the shell.”

"are you doing it because it makes you happy or because the world told you to”

"The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them – words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think.”

"Have a mind that is open to everything, and attached to nothing.”

"

I told my friend that I would explain myself in words that’ll sing where I’ve lost voice, but all I wanted to write about was to you. You who slowly accepts the fate of why the moon still listens to what exactly it is that the wolves do say, within such pain, do we recognize the truth that is being said? Let me ask you something personal. Are you happy? Do you sleep on that bed knowing that tomorrow will be your last? Or maybe you imagine it’ll be a month from today. Or maybe in some mysterious way, you dream that it won’t happen, maybe in your head, you don’t get to die at all. In some ways, you’re right. If you’re perfect, or if you’re not, I’ll keep you alive. If you’re words or a broken sentence, I’ll write you down, and yes, you’re my stranger, but I’m no stranger to my strangers, I’m the strangest thing in my head. I don’t know about today and what it’ll bestow, but if I could take a little bit of your time, I just want you to feel okay. I’ve never fallen in love with any fictional characters, but if I wrote you down as a lovely verse I’d read you ever night. I’d fall in love with the very sound of the way tongue and mouth works together to produce speech. I know it’s all in a paragraph and you may close your books soon, but it’ll all go right. You don’t tell me if you read anymore, and I may be too late, but I’ll still write because it’s more of a blessing than a curse as of late. When I think I want to quit and my lungs filled with tar breathe raspingly, I still imagine what it would be like to be there for you. I know death is a gift life gives to us in hopes that we live without regrets, but if you’re anything like me, I align the stars to match smiles that I’ve long forgotten and yes, we don’t get to be forgiven, in truth, even if we are, we can never forgive ourselves and that’s why I consider this writing a curse. My pen has an imprint of my heart on the side of the ink that never gets to spill and these loose leaf papers try to become my skin, but I no longer bleed blood, I’m just a bunch of reading that we haven’t gotten around to doing and it’s a whole lot of nothing if we’re not believing in anything. I’ve never flown a kite in my childhood, some would say I grew up too soon, I didn’t get to enjoy the little things, and maybe that’s why I write. I’ve been flying these kites, I’ve been using your hope as my strings and though they may be paper in the end, I still write and I still think that if some day I stop, you won’t truly be alive even if your soul makes its way into the next sentence, I also wonder about mine and what songs it’ll pick once I leave this place and no, it’s not my time yet, so I’ll write these run on sentences with my typos because I live on the edge of every word we’ve always wanted to stutter but never could.

And I guess that’s why–

”

"It’s a beautiful thing to have lungs that allow you to breathe air and legs that allow you to climb mountains, and it’s a shame that sometimes we don’t realize that that’s enough”