The sudden realization hit me, like a sharp pain emanating in my chest, he wasnʼt the man I came to know. He wasnʼt the man I knew he used to be. He was full of secrets, and I know now that; “sometimes secrets are actual people.”

That's the best thing about writers; whenever they can't spill blood, they spill ink.

I wrote about love once, and never stopped.

When no one else listens to you. You'll find a pen and paper awaiting your stories.