Even the tallest trees are able to grow from tiny seeds like these. Remember this, and try not to rush time.

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”

There are some things you don’t learn about yourself until you let someone else into the most intimate places of your heart.

People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar.

You have to accept that some people are not made for deep conversations, or for holding you together when you’re about to fall apart, or for keeping you from unzipping your skin, or for talking you out of suicide, or to love you through the worst moments of your life. Some people are made for shallow exchanges, and ridiculous banter, and nothing more. And that’s okay. That doesn’t make them horrible people because they simply aren’t able to handle a storm like you. It doesn’t make you a bad person because you won’t divulge all the gritty details of your horror show. It makes you smart. You have to accept that there will be people that cannot give you what you need. It doesn’t mean they are not worth keeping in your life. You just have to figure out who these ones are before you’re disappointed. And you have to keep them at arm’s length. You cannot expect everyone in your life to understand, to be nonjudgmental, to get it. But that’s okay, because not everyone was made to impart wisdom, or wax-poetic, or speak on politics and the depravity of society, or discuss how crucial it is that the stigma of mental illness be abolished. There are times when you have to get away from all that heaviness. You have to. And you will need superficial conversation about Kim Kardashian’s arse, or a debate on the colour of The Dress. You will need those ones. So don’t go round cutting people off and dropping your friends. You need people for all your seasons. You need people or you won’t survive this.

I find it so ironic that I built an armor to defend myself against pain and sadness, only to find out that the armor itself was forged out of it. The same armor fortified and hardened my walls, and now I am screaming and nobody can hear me.

We are born with the ability to love… Yet we have to develop it like you would any other muscle.

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.