But there’s a part of me that wonders what it would be like to be the most important person to someone else, to always feel like you were missing a piece of yourself when he wasn’t near you.

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to put her fist through a mirror. She would tell everyone it was so that she could see what was on the other side, but really, it was so that she wouldn't have to look at herself. That, and because she thought she might be able to steal a piece of glass when no one was looking, and use it to carve her heart out of her chest.

How far can a person go... and still live with himself.

Suddenly this is all too hard. I am tired of putting up walls. I want someone with the strength - and the honesty - to break them down.

In this new place we've found, sometimes there aren't words, because the truth can be even more difficult than the lies.

I look for places like me: big, hollow, forgotten by most everyone.

I think I have sort of gravitated toward issues that I don't know the answers to, because that's what's more interesting for me to write.