On a dreary, winter day you wrote a note that promised me your never-ending love. "I love you and promise to never break up with you..." is what you said. You lied.

True love is only there if you allow it to be.

...and to think that I loved you.

Sometimes in life we can't trust anybody, including most importantly of all--ourselves.

I have an odd fettish for hearts, especially yours.

Sometimes in life, no matter how many times you sit wrapped in someone's arms, how tightly you hold onto their hand, or how many times you tell them you love them, you just can't help but find yourself in love with somebody else.

...and they say that things will get better...that I only have to last through this a little bit longer. I'm tired of fighting. When will it get better?