Some people, they get down in a hole so deep they can't figure out what to hold on to.

As it turns out, you can function while your heart is being torn to shreds.

You always knew after shitty things happened, who your friends really were.

Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall.

You fell in love with someone because of the tilt of his smile, or because he could make you laugh, or in this case, because he made you believe that you were the only one who could save him.

Love is not an equation, it is not a contract, and it is not a happy ending. Love is the slate under the chalk, the ground that buildings rise, and the oxygen in the air. It is the place you come back to, no matter where your headed

Turn around, and the people you thought you knew might change. Your little boy might now live half a world away. Your beautiful daughter might be sneaking out at night. Your ex-husband might by dying by degrees. This is the reason that dancers learn, early on, how to spot while doing pirouettes: we all want to be able to find the place where we started.