all those nights with the phone warming the side of my face like the sun.

The ego hurts you like this: you become obsessed with the one person who does not love you. blind to the rest who do.

At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.

Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else; they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.

The only darkness we should allow into our lives is the night, for even then, we have the moon.