But we all make mistakes. It’s how we fix them that makes us who we are.

He knows what I'm about to say--he always does. He is my best friend, my soul mate. In a perfect world, full of roses and sunshine we'd be together, but this is full of broken.

I sometimes feel like life is just one big test to see how long we can survive.

I'm just here,existing at the surface of the water,not quite drowning but not quite able to breathe.

People say that time heals all wounds, and maybe they're right. But whit if the wounds don't heal correctly, like when cuts leave behind nasty scars, or when broken bones mend together, but aren't as smooth anymore? Does it mean they're really healed? Or is it that the body did what it could to fix what broke.

See, the same old Ella still lives." He grins... "She just needed a little push out."... "No, she doesn't. She's gone forever." "Try all you want, but I'm bringing her back.

Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins. Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.