I just don’t see the point of talking unless there’s something to say.

But sometimes stuff happens and we find ourselves lost, and suddenly we're standing in a place we don't recognize and can't remember walking-or falling-there, and we're unsure how to get back or if we even want to.

But I trusted him once and I decide to do it again. I just pray to God he doesn’t shove me down and break me, because I’m already in too many pieces and I just don’t know how much more breaking I can take.

Death. It's around more than people realize. Because no one wants to talk about it or hear about it. It's too sad. Too painful. Too hard. The list of reasons is endless.

I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.

I let my head fall forward into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "Now what do we do?" He's quiet for a while and I finally lean back to look him in the eyes. He appears conflicted by something and then he sets me down on the ground, lacing his fingers through mine. "Should we see where the wind takes us?" he asks. I stare at my hand in his and then look up at him. "That sounds good to me.

You've always had a good grasp on what's right and wrong. You just have a hard time admitting that sometimes you choose the wrong.