What if the one I choose to discount is one who has been truly hurt?

My friends say I have two speeds: fast and blistering.

Sometimes you can see things happen right in front of your eyes and still jump to the wrong conclusions.

Anger, though, is too fierce a flame to last for long, and when it burned out, I was left numb and wondering.

I drew it over my skin like a violins bow, No one would ever hear the song of my shame.

I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room-but eventually, you learn to live with it.

Into the silence rips a sound that makes me let go of Max's hand and cover my ears. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalkboard, promises being broken. It's a note I have never heard - this chord of pure pain - and it takes a moment to realize it is coming from me.