I made a fatal error thinking he could save me.
We make patterns, we share moments. Sometimes, I think I'm the only one to see it.
Don't pretend to care. I don't need you as an anesthetic.
Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear.
The light is heart-breaking.
All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.