I know he did horrible things in the jungle. Things no amount of alcohol or pills could erase. War stains soldiers, all the way through their psyches, into their souls. I understand that, and could almost forgive him for taking his own life, to quiet the ghosts. But I can never forgive him for taking my mother with him.

Then teach me how to not care about someone who was everything to me. All I want is to know she's okay. Is that too much to ask?

Have to Find ...life ...is ...a— ...gamble ...after ...all.

I know he wants to get serious. He's definitely not a player, not a poser, not a loser, not a user.

Grandma once told me it's easy to overthink love, to dissect it and question it until it is no more.

I want to know what it means to be in love. But in my dictionary 'in love' is indefinable.

God wasn't love, couldn't be love. Because for me, love was a corpse.