I drive around the streets an inch away from weeping, ashamed of my sentimentality and possible love.
I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice.
Most people are not ready for death, theirs or anybody elses.
โ"sheโ mad but sheโ magic. thereโ no lie in her fire.
Things will be far worse than they are now. And far better. I wait.
it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.