when you want something so desperately, you shake with the need for it. you tell yourself that you don't need more than one sip, because it's just the taste you crave, and once it's on your tongue you will be able to make it last alifetime. you dream of it at night. you see a thousand mile-high obstacles between where you stand and what you want, and you convince yourself you have the power to hurdle them. you tell yourself this even when, leaping the first block, you wind up bruised and bloodied and flattened.

If you don't know there's an alternative, you can't miss it

Is Fate getting what you deserve, or deserving what you get?

Why do some memories bleed out of nowhere and others stay locked behind doors?

The world just feels different for those of us who come alive after dark. It's more fragile and unreal, a replica of the one everyone else inhabits.

You can't exist in this world without leaving a piece of yourself behind.

Since I was five, I've known that I was adopted, which is a politically correct term for being clueless about one's own origins.