If you were given a book with the story of your life, would you read the end?

Sober or drunk, it’s always you.

Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.

I need you to be clingy because I’m paranoid and I begin to think you don’t like me if you’re not.

At some point you just have to let go of what you thought should happen and live in what is happening.