In love and faith I just have to believe

I was thinking about all these things and more, but I wasn't really thinking about them at all. They were just there, floating around in the back of my mind, thinking about themselves. What I was really thinking about, of course, was Lucas.

Staring in the darkness, trying to sleep. My body was aching with tiredness. My limbs were numb. My sightless eyes were crazed with light/ I was dying of oblivion, but it wouldn't come. I didn't think I've ever sleep again.

The only difference now, for what it's worth, is that I know that these things don't matter. I know that I don't have to know anything, and I know that I don't have to fell frightened of not knowing-I just have to be here

It was a truth that invaded her, like a dark disease, a truth too painful to talk about. And I was beginning to wonder if all I was doing was making it worse.

Because some things are never meant to be anything more than a moment. And that was one of them.

I remember it all: every word, every breath, every tick of the clock . . . everything that happened is with me forever. I can never forget it. But that dosen't mean I can live it again. You can't live what's gone, you can only remember it, and memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone - like faded photographs, or a dried-up daisy chain at the back of a drawer. They have no substance. They can't take you back. Nothing can take you back. Nothing can be the same as it was. Nothing is. All I can do is tell it.