i love you so much, and it bothers me that i’m not certain of my ability to write for you something that doesn’t sound trite, that won’t help. through all this mess, it’s so easy, isn’t it yaar. its so easy to see that This is what makes us human, this unfathomable capacity to love, and to feel–to feel so intensely, even when it hurts us so much. [...] who was it (ugh, please don’t say rumi, although shittt, most likely right. credit where credit is due i suppose.) who said that the heart is like a vase. intact it can only hold so much, a consistent amount every time, right? but once hurt, broken, its shards lay exposed. the vase can now hold the sky, the possibilities of the heart become infinite.

– my friends are the best writers.