in the middle of moi

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I’m always cautious of not loving too much, of not giving too much. Because somehow it’s always me, alone on the floor completely broken, wondering how I got here. And each time it’s because I loved too much and gave so much that I was left with nothing.

She’s the girl you find when you’re way too young. And you really love her–you do, but you’re scared, so you screw things up. Because theres too much living to do. Only to find out later she’s the one, and she’s gone.

You have moments where you think you’re over it and then you have others where you cry in the bathroom wondering why you weren’t good enough.

Ambition is attractive.