Just because you escape one trap, doesn't mean you will escape the next.

Grief had its own life, took its own sustenance.

Yuyeh sesh. Despise your heart. Ni weh sesh. I have no heart.

Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. I tilted my head back. The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.

But I’ve also been known to answer to ‘sweetheart’ or ‘handsome.

There was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs and brushes.

Don't argue. Never deign to deny. Meet insults with laughter.