Herz über Kopf

I find myself missing you at the oddest moments—whenever I see something I want to show you or think of a story I can’t wait to tell you. Just picturing you makes me feel giddy, like the first bit of sunshine on a flower after a long winter. I find myself re-reading your messages just to feel close to you. I’m longing to hear your laughter again and feel that spark in you when you talk about the things you love.

“There’s always room to be a better person. Always.”

“Listen closely: the only time it’s too late to change yourself is when you’re dead. Until then, you’re simply making excuses or lying to yourself.”

Please be patient with me. Sometimes when I’m quiet it’s because I need to figure myself out. It’s not because I don’t want to talk. Sometimes there are no words for my thoughts.

Just know that I love you. I love you with all of my fucked up, piece of shit heart.

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

We assume others show love the same way we do — and if they don’t, we worry it’s not there.

“I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that.”