I'm so tired of missing things I don't have.
Pictures can be pretty deceptive.
But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut.
It takes certain kind of naiveté, or perhaps just stupidity, to know things will end and still hope otherwise.
Sometimes you make choices in life and sometimes choices make you.
In the middle of L.A.'s sunny non-winter, I need to sit in a dark closet to feel right.