Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.
But the world moves on, even when you don't want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops.
Caring too much could be dangerous; I saw that now. But the alternative was no better.
He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.
I’m sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.
Maybe I was just one of those people who couldn't rest easy unless things went catastrophically wrong.