Real love is support, even when you’re fighting. Real love is honesty, even when the truth hurts like hell. Real love is being there through every miserable minute and every infinite moment. Real love is – it’s sitting in that cage together with a gun pointed at your head, knowing all you have to do to save your life is kill him, and instead you hold each other because living without him isn’t living at all.

One cannot die if one was never alive to begin with.

I was empty and full of heartache at the same time, and everything felt wrong.

Your optimism continues to defy reality.

Isn’t that what friends do?” It hurt to hear the uncertainty in his voice. “You’re my friend Kate, and you’re miserable. What could possibly be more important than taking care of you?

Ava was the one who believed in the impossible, not me. When she lost hope, how was I supposed to have any? “You.

Yes, I thought, everything changed with time. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

But it was too late for happy endings. I was already dead.

It’s not about the credit. It’s about making a difference. And we all did that together.

I would know something was missing. I would know my life was pointless, even if I never understood why. Even if we’d never met, even if you never existed, I would still love you beyond all reason for the rest of my life.