He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he was something. Someone who made a positive impact on my life regardless of the negative. He changed my perspective for the better and made me who I am in this very second. I appreciate, cherish, and thank him for it; and I will for this life and into any life that may come.

And I went into the new year loving myself a little less, but a little more where it actually mattered.

Maybe the problem isn’t everything and everyone around you, but what lies within you.

I realized I loved him after everything went wrong so I wallowed in self-pity and prayed I could wake up.

I came for a portion but left with the universe.

The difference between fucking and loving is taboo to some because not everyone can separate their emotions.

Sometimes he does talk back, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s not there; and from time to time I believe this was all nothing but imaginary.

You were quite lovely, but I mixed lovely with homely because I was young and naive. So plain and simple, yet pleasant and handsome. You felt like home, but that’s where I went wrong.

I fell in love with everything that he was and everything that he wasn’t.