Breathe.

You're still here.
You are here.

We can always go on the rooftop, it's so high, we'll practically be part of the sky.

My right hand on yours, a soda on the other, we'll let the world sleep under our feet.

Everything will be right in its place, every pain will end in its own pace
We'll be alright.
We are going to live just fine.

We need to stop believing in the idea that peace requires forgiveness -- especially not for those who were hurt the most.

Cut people off of your circle if they no longer fit.

Always start with the piece that makes the most sense.

Maybe, you should've tried harder.
Harder for her not to have any reasons at all.

Try again. Fail again, better.

we won't know how many birthdays we had until the last one.