Everything is more complicated than you think. We only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice we make, and you can try to destroy your life every time you choose, but maybe you won't know for twenty years, and you may never ever trace it to its source. We only get one chance to play it out, and while they might try to convince you that there is no fate, it exists without a doubt. It's what you create, and even though the world goes on for aeons and aeons, and we are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second, and most of our time is spent being dead or not yet born - we are undoubtedly connected. It's funny how we spend waiting in vain, wasting years for a phone call or letter or something to make it all all-right, yet it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. So we live our moments in vague regret or even vaguer hope that something good will come along, something to make us feel whole, loved, and not so very angry. I wonder ... when that time shall come for me? And more importantly, do I even want it to arrive?
He realized his heart was not like a box that gets filled up, but it expands in size the more he loves. He knows he shall not do so again soon, but the notion that he will be capable of it makes him smile. He will reject it, he will fight it with all his limbs, yet when the right person arrives, he shall simply let it happen. He does not waste wishes on falling stars, or wastes his time dreaming of the arrival of the inevitable, rather, he spends his time becoming someone who will be worthy of even the greatest of love's. He is becoming everything he sought to be - stronger, wiser, kinder, more determined and more beautiful than he'd ever imagine, inside and out. He uses those who left as a cautionary tale for himself, always reminding him what he deserves, and how sometimes his best is not enough, and that's completely fine, because before it lasts in love, it has to hurt instead.
