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have told you time and time again that you have my friendship and nothing more. I have nothing else to give you. You are not entitled to or owed anything more, nor will this constant barrage of pressure from you result in what you want.’
there are all kinds of darkness in this world. Some good, some bad, and some with no agenda at all. It’s what that darkness means to you and what you do with it yourself that matters most.’
Sometimes, to love someone, we have to let them go. And that sometimes, in order to go where we need to, we must turn away from one path, onto another…’
Love didn’t happen once, she realised. It happened every day, in little moments, in the quiet gaps between grand words, in the lingering touches, in the hope it promised in the dark. Love was something that breathed and expanded, that was made and remade, again and again, reforged only to become stronger.
‘We take our happiness when and where we can.
even if it’s in the middle of a storm of darkness.’
Love was a language of few words, older than humanity,
