It's probably weird to think about an addiction like it's a sentient being, but that's how it feels. Like it's something living inside you. Something you can't get rid of because killing it means killing you.

She's incredible, not that she's perfect. But you once said imperfections create character.

TRIAD: Three separate highways intersect at a place no reasonable person would ever want to go. Three lives that would have been cut short, if not for hasty interventions by loved ones. Or Fate. Three people, with nothing at all in common except age, proximity, and a wish to die. Three tapestries, tattered at the edges and come unwoven to reveal a single mutual thread.

Nonfiction speaks to the head. Fiction speaks to the heart. Poetry speaks to the soul. It's the essence of beauty. The essence of pain. It pleases the eye and the ear.

Because to tell you the truth, most of the time dying seems pretty much like my only means of escape

Falling in love with someone is the surest highway to hurt that I know. When the door to love opens, the window to control closes.

There will never be color blindness in a culture of fear.