Do we have scars?  Hell yes.  We fucking earned them together.  Each wound earned in this war that is us, you and I, fighting the entire damned universe for our happy every after.  I’ve hurt you, you’ve hurt me, they’ve hurt us… but here we are still standing side by side.  That means something powerful is holding together this gossamer thread that stitches you to me and me to you.  I miss the feeling of hearts without scars, but I would miss us more, and when I run my fingers over those scars, they tell an epic tale of how a boy and a girl loved and lived and fell and struggled and achieved and sustained.  They are our scars.  The scars of us, and us is beautiful.

Excerpt from A String of Moments
(the book I’ll never write)