Breaking up isn't something that gets done to you; its something that happens with you.

The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, there was no longer anyone to remember with.

Caroline is no longer sufffering from personhood.

I write about broken people who need other people in order to go on. But those are the only kind of people I know to exist. We are all broken.

If you were to go, and hopefully someday you will, you would see a lot of paintings of dead people. You'd see Jesus on the cross, and you'd see a dude get stabbed in the neck, and you'd see people dying at sea and in battle and a parade of martyrs. But Not. One. Single. Cancer. Kid. Nobody biting it from the plague or smallpox or yellow fever or whatever, because there is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.

I spy with my little eye a great story.

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.