A real fighter never cries, never lets the weight of any blow bring him down. Except that final blow, the inevitable one, but even then they always go out like men.

Oh, this is going to be fun; he actually thinks he's teaching me something.

Yesterday I thought about why I felt the need to get up at exactly the same time as the day before and do everything I did the day before. Why? What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?

I have to live and make my own choices, my own mistakes. You have to let me be me, even if i suck at it sometimes." - Adria

I run behind her, letting her stay a few steps ahead of me so if she happens to fall I’ll be there to laugh at her first and then help her up afterwards.

I shattered that memory by going back there. Without realizing it until it was too late, I replaced that memory with the emptiness of that day.

Ultimately, it's my choice and only my choice.