But I don’t want small talk. Text me, and without saying hello, tell me why you got so angry at your sister this morning. Tell me why you have a scar shaped like Europe on the left side of your neck. Send me paragraphs about the time you spent at your grandmother’s house that one summer. Call me when I’m half asleep and tell me why you believe in God. Tell me about the first time you saw your dad cry. Go on for hours about things that may not seem important because I promise that I’ll be hanging on to every word you say. Tell me everything. I don’t want someone who just talks about the weather.

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.

I think we were meant to be but we did it wrong.

I am a hard person to love; but, when I love, I love really hard.

I guess you could call it a ‘failure’, but I prefer the term ‘learning experience’.

It’s a constant back and forth with you. When I thought that I have finally moved on, you came crashing back to my life. When I thought that I have finally let you go, you put my heart in chains, so I would not be able to do so.

How did you know that you were in love with me?“ she asked, playing with the hem of his shirt, her eyes low. He smiled, his eyes alight as he kissed her cheek. “I didn’t. Not until our first fight.” “Oh?” Her eyebrows raised with challenging amusement. He smiled but his eyes were serious. “Every time I fought with someone in the past, I’ve run away. With you, all I could think about was how to fix it.