I want you to send a hundred red balloons up into the sky every Fourth of July and make everyone who sees them wonder what the story behind them is all about. Let me live on inside of a made up story, Callum Andrew

But still, my heart beats. It dreams. It wonders. And most dangerous of all, it hopes, because despite its smallness, this hope is still a great something

I've never feared death before. I’ve always been willing to die. Sometimes I even welcomed it, wishing for this all to be over and finally find peace in an endless sleep. But when I look at you, I see possibility, and I start to do what I know better than to do—I wonder

I have an arrow living inside my chest that shoots straight toward you—even though I know the sky is falling for us. Even though I know all we’re destined for is dust. I can’t make it change course. It leads me to you every time I’ve tried to turn away

Your heart swallowed me like a well and I will never be able to climb out. I fell. I fell into your infinity. And my inability to free myself will doom your life.

It began with your eyes cast down, and mine looking right at you,I watched you rule out hundreds of questions and accept only mine. I poured my stories into your eager heart, and you sparked faith inside the stubbornness of mine. Our beginning was written in the stars—how could it not be?

You aren’t some dream I want to relive. You’re the part of my life that someone has decided to rip away and I’m trying to figure out how to tie us back together.