"I think the most tragic part of my story is that my happiness was never rooted in reality. I am a firm lover of dreams and fantasy but you must root your happiness in reality- dreams are less easily controlled than an acid trip. You exist in this world and eventually, the world inside of your head begins to fade. It’s not that reality will never break your heart, but just that the heartbreak will be worth it. You will have lived and loved in a world more full of life and love than any imaginary castle in the sky."

"without trust, everything falls apart."

"The few people who have knocked down the walls you built up and whom you trusted with all your heart are the ones you will never forget. When someone like that leaves, they take a little piece of your heart with them. And the hole in your heart you now have, it just constantly reminds you of the person who was the cause of it. And I guess that’s why people who placed their trust in the wrong people feel so messed up. Because every day, they feel those void, empty spaces within themselves and wonder when they’d feel whole again."

"your head is a living forest full of song birds"
— e. e. cummings

just some poems to make your heart smile

who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where

always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

-----------

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what is is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands