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?