"If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there."

"He calls you late at night, and you can’t help holding your breath, waiting for a drunk confession of love, because this must be the time that daydreams become reality.
His voice is barely an exhale, but you hear every syllable because that’s how you always listen to him: so very closely. “Can you come pick me up?” It’s slurred, though his voice is just a whisper.
He’s drunk, but he isn’t in love.
So you slip out of your house, and you start the car, easily agreeing because it’s him. It’s him and it’s him and it’s him, and that is any and every excuse you’ll ever need. Street lights pass in a blur as you get closer and closer to him, and you don’t know why it’s always like this—why does every road and every map lead to this boy?
You like to think that it’s fate.
Your road ends where it always begins, and you stop in front of a bright house in the dark night, and various bottles and different people are scattered across the lawn, and there he is, walking toward you, and he’s drunk and he’s exhausted and he looks like hell, but it’s him—it’s him and it’s him and it’s him. He gets into the car, and he slumps in the passenger seat, and you want to say something—you want him to say something—but silence swallows you whole as you start the car and pull away from the curb.
And you drive, and you drive, and you try to focus on the yellow lines in the center of the road rather than his ragged breathing or your erratic heartbeat, but the lines are blurred and your heart won’t still.
Finally, he mumbles something, and you wish that you didn’t hang on to every word he says. You wish that this wasn’t fate’s plan because this is not the ending you’d always dreamed of. You wish that you weren’t listening close enough to hear him say her name, to hear him mumble, “She’s beautiful, and I don’t fucking deserve her, but god, I wish I did.”
Because he’s drunk, and he’s in love. He’s just not in love with you."

"

why did you
came to my life
only as temporary happiness

why did you
made me believe in forever
when you weren’t going to stay

why did you
destroyed me
when i loved you more than anything

"

"You see all the light, while I’m blind to everything that isn’t dark, but oh how beautiful a sunset can be."

"Before I knew it he had his hands on my notebook and was reading one of my stories. He laughed and asked “who’s this about?” I said “Oh it’s just some of the stuff that I write.” Then he kept reading and released a sigh. “Boy, you really love this guy don’t you?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said. His eyes were planted on the paper. He kept doodling the paper with his fingers, wearing a blank expression on his face. He looked as if he would remain there forever. And at that moment I knew he knew…"

"

you’ll cry about a lot of things when you get older.

you’ll cry every time one of your best friends moves away, and let me tell you it never gets any easier. you’ll cry at 3 in the morning on a Tuesday because you’re thinking about the next year of your life and how you wish you could stay where you are. you’ll cry because you hate the girl you see in the mirror. you’ll cry because the boy who was once your best friend told you he doesn’t want to fix things between the two of you. you’ll cry in the bathroom because the girl you don’t talk to anymore can’t even look at you because you hurt her so badly. you’ll cry when you read through old letters your friends wrote you. you’ll cry when your best friend tells you how much she is hurting, and how she hurts herself. you’ll cry on the plane leaving the place you love so much. you’ll cry when you think about her, which is a lot considering every fucking song on your favorite playlist makes you miss her.

you will cry a lot when you get older, but the important thing to remember is that it’s okay and it’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable.

"

"Sometimes, it’s easier to tell a stranger something very personal. It`s like there’s less risk, opening yourself up to someone who doesn’t know you."

"Sometimes you outgrow people and it’s okay."