We all have things that come back to haunt us. Some of us just see them more clearly than others.

They don't like the thought of someone else making demands on the person whom they see as belonging entirely to them.

It felt like I'd been living underground, and for a moment, I'd been given this glimpse of the sky. Once you've seen that, how can you go back where you came from?

When someone loves you up one side and down the other like that, you make every effort to stick around.

There is nothing worse than silence, strung like heavy beads on too delicate a conversation.

Even the most beautiful things can be toxic.

What if it turns out that a life isn’t defined by who you belong to or where you came from, by what you wished for or whom you’ve lost, but instead by the moments you spend getting from each of these places to the next?