The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.

I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.

Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on.
I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.

He looked so much like me, I could tell that he saw it, too, we shared the smile of recognizing ourselves in each other, how many imposters do I have? DO we all make the same mistakes, or has one of us gotten it right, or even just a bit less wrong, am I the imposter?

Anyone who believes that a second is faster than a decade did not live life.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.