he was an writer and she an artist. he was older but she didn't care. he was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen and her obsession was greater than either of them could imagine

❝in which a troubled girl with a passion for coffee collides with an outgoing boy with secrets to be told❞

"You have to learn to live, kid, not just survive."

"When he walked past my room, with a male figure in a blue doctors coat, holding his arms and a cart that held his IV bags , with little tubes connecting to his nostrils, he looked angelic. How could someone so endearing, innocent and beautiful, have such an awful curse, to hold him back from so much in the world? But for the first time in my life, I'm thankful for my illness, and his too. For if we had not these illnesses, we never would've laid eyes on each other. We never would have shared a conversation about silly things like whether pigeons have feelings or not. We never would've shared intelligent conversations, like what we would down when we're older, if we made it to that. But what haunts me the most out of it all is, the one thing that killed me the most, led me to the one thing that made me feel the most alive." © All Rights Reserved To irwindrugs. Copyright 2014.