You're far from this. This story is just another few hundred pages of your mind.

Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay" we say. "I'm alright". But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

I always marvel at the humans' ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.

Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.

My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.

No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.