I think I understand. Why all great things are sad. Why silence aches. Why people lose their way. Why when I see a lone figure, I wonder who she is missing and not who she’ll meet. Why babies die when they’re not touched. Why young girls cradle letters from strange boys with nameless pain upon their hearts. We’re not meant to be alone. We’re made with holes inside our souls. The only way to survive is to fill them. I think the catch is, you don’t get to choose with what’.
-Ella James
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