Good things, by their nature, are fleeting. It’s those that bring us grief that linger.

I knew him, but I don't understand him.

You don’t have to be sad to miss someone and wish they were still in your life.

Does madness bring creativity? Or does creativity cause madness? Can an artist create without the ups so high and the downs so low?

Sometimes grief is a comfort we grant ourselves because it's less terrifying than trying for joy. Nobody wants to admit it. We'd all declare we want to be happy, if we could. So why, then, is pain the one thing we most often hold on to? Why are slights and griefs the memories on which we choose to dwell? Is it because joy doesn't last but grief does?

There seemed to be so much to say, but no words adequate to say it.

Knowing what you need doesn't always mean you know how to get it, though. I'd spent a long time hiding in my cave. No matter how much I might want to come out into the light, I knew it would hurt my eyes. I was a fool. A fool, but nevertheless too smart not to know I was the architect of my own demise, that it was time to put my past behind me. It was time to stop allowing the white elephants to stand unspoken of in my living room.