Hot flush, raging bluch. Ice flash, instant crash.

Even without them touching me, I feel dirty about what I do. Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap. I don’t believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.

But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.

...what good would it do to shutter your windows, never dream of rainbows or find hope in promises? Why choose to walk away rather than hold your ground and fight for love?

Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they're pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet.

I'm sad. Pressed down by sorrow. I'm angry. Pissed at God, if there is one, and the way things are. I'm scared. Confused by the whys. Why are we here? Is there, really, some intelligent design? Why do we cry for someone who leaves us if there's some Grand Pearly Gate in the sky? Why worry about how we build our lives if the ultimate ending for all is death, a single breath away? (358)

Love means holding on to someone just as hard as you can because if you don't, one blink and they might disappear...forever.