But we remember that family is not just those of blood. But also those we choose to love. - Nikita Gill

I lure myself into a spandex trap and I text Amanda, “Is this what death feels like?” Alone in my room I say, “God, is this a poem? It’s uncomfortable. It feels like a poem.” God never answers, which is what really makes it poetry.

Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours.

The loneliest thing you can ever do is take every instance where you should grow and waste it by only thinking how could this happen to you?