They tell you what happens outside.

And how you will suffer.

They don’t tell you what happens when you go inside.

What they don’t tell you about suffering is that you will fall back in love with everything.

You will burst out of bed every morning doing everything your heart yearned for but your mind never had time for—because now, what have you got to lose?

They don’t tell you that you will dance and you will laugh alone in the four corners of your home—and in doing so, you will finally walk back home to yourself.

They don’t tell you that everything will feel like the first time.

That although few and far between, a smile from a stranger in the hallway will leave you soaring for hours.

About the butterflies you get for your partner when you hear your door buzz after weeks apart.

That every kiss, every touch will feel like the first time.

They don’t tell you that you will fall in love with what you have, that all this time you were chasing something you already had within you.

They don’t tell you that in solitude you become the master of your own life and fall back in love with it all over again.

F*ck no—that doesn’t sell newspapers.