I see... the way you're always searching. How much you hate anything fake or phony. How you're older than your years, but still... playful, like a little girl. How you're always looking into people, or wondering what they see when they look back at you. Your eyes. It's all in the eyes.
He did not waste time in a vain search for a place in history.
We’re all blurry-eyed wanderers of time, and the unfortunance of it all is that we’d probably all go on to do great things if only we searched for what corrected and focused our vision instead of relying on our past – life’s grand kaleidoscope – to help us find our way forward.
I kept walking. Have you ever done that? Just walk. Just walk and have no idea where you're going? It wasn't a good feeling, but not a bad one either. I felt caged and free at the same time, like it was only myself that wouldn't allow me to feel either great or miserable.
Love was as flawed and terrible and beautiful as we were.
To be alive meant looking for it in ourselves and in others, an imperfection searching for an impossible perfection.
Because in that journey was where truth resided.
Love wasn’t about being held. It was about being freed.