Our lives change. Our feelings for each other change. Our bearings change. The song changes. The air changes. The temperature of the shower changes. Accept this. We must accept this.
We'd said we'd keep in touch. But touch is not something you can keep; as soon as it's gone, it's gone. We should have said we'd keep in words, because they are all we can string between us--words on a telephone line, words appearing on a screen.
tiny: did someone die? me: yeah, i did. he smiles again at that. tiny: well, then... welcome to the afterlife.
If you stare at the center of the universe, there is coldness there. A blankness. Ultimately, the universe doesn't care about us. Time doesn't care about us. That's why we have to care about each other.
Life goes on is a redundancy. Life is defined by its going on.
He was my first boyfriend, and I made him my everything - he was my new life, my new love, my new compass point. I guess that's the danger with firsts - you lose all sense of proportion.
Your life is inescapable. Unless you decide to escape it.
But I think we were walking around like we were invincible. And maybe that's a bad way to live your life. Because you're not invincible. Nobody is. And maybe now that we've learned that, we'll be better.
We pencil-sketch our previous life so we can contrast it to the technicolor of the moment.
Dullness is the spice of life. Which is why we must always use other spices.
There is the sudden. There is the eventual. And in between, there is the living.
The secret to living long is to have something to live for.
This is the trap of having something to live for: Everything else seems lifeless.
People say that time slips through our fingers like sand. What they don't acknowledge is that some of the sand sticks to the skin. These are memories that will remain, memories of the time when there was still time left.