surrounded by strangers who love me (un)strangers made strange by pain
Jewelry, I'm telling you. It's a thing. And love. And maybe danger.
I hadn't fallen through his arms. He was ripped from mine.
In death, lie. In living, cry. Carry me home to remember to be remembered.
we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers
I had never been this mad at her before. It was one thing to be attacked by someone you hated, but this was something else. This was the kind of hurt that could only be inflicted by someone you loved, who you thought loved you. It was sort of like being stabbed from the inside out.