And taking care of somebody else made me feel good. Like discovering you're more than you thought you were. More even than you hoped to be.
I wondered if a blessing is still a blessing if it lasts for only a little while.
What do you know about sooner or later? Is a moment only a moment when you're in pain?
Longevity can't be the only test of love.
Why is it I'm always so quick to believe that people are thinking...believing the worst about me?
And marking off time struck me as something like counting empty spaces—spaces you know can't ever be filled.