This is not something insignificant. This is real. This is happening, and this is ours.

But I guess you don't see the planets when you're staring at the sun. You just get blinded.

That's what it felt like - that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

I'm always standing on the edge of something bad.

This is a difference between us: you desire what other people have, while I desire the things I used to have, or think I might have one day.

I see Nick's number. I debate whether to assign a name to his number. If I commit to that, then I will truly be heartbroken if he never calls me again; my heart will knot each and every time I use this phone and see his name in there. I would probably end up having to trash the phone entirely.

I don't want to steal anybody's story. I very much want to use the stories that I hear to get lost in my mind, to tell a larger story.