So this is what it feels like to live on your own. Got more time on my hands than I ever asked for.

Centuries ago, I used to feel almost complete as long as I had my books, and dreams and regular doses of coffee. I used to be a whole before you turned me into an eternally unsatisfied half.

Tomorrow we might begin anew. We're still young and tender and eager to fall. Inspiration finds a shelter where love stories go to die.

You may think that the pain you've suffered shall protect you from future emotional inconveniences. Dream on.

I am not frightened of heights anymore. Will you come fly with me, even if only until sunrise?

Do you know what it's like, when you've cried all the tears you had in store, but were not granted even the slightest impression of relief?

Hope provides the inspiration for all things beautiful; it is also the hidden cause of our demise.

I'm still hopeful.