I wrote a story about us and in the end, we weren't together. And no matter how many times I rewrote it, the ending never changed.

The irony is that when I fell so hard for you, you didn't even stumble.

I fervently wish for you to call me, to tell me you suddenly have an answer for me. Just so I can tell you that I don't even care anymore what the answer is.

A hopeless romantic in a hopeless relationship is destined for heartbreak.

I know all about you now. And I hate myself for still wanting you, despite every terrible thing.

I guess his intentions were good. He thought that by not answering me, it was letting me down easy. He didn't know it would just make me feel worthless.

At least we can remember pain without having to feel it again.

For once, when someone asks me how I'm doing and I tell them I'm fine...I just want them to look at me and say "tell the truth."

"I don't know which I'd rather believe... that you never did care or that you eventually stopped."

If I asked him, would he even know the color of my eyes?