The price of a memory, is the memory of the sorrow it brings.

No one, and nothing, will ever hurt you as long as I'm alive.

My breathing is controlled, but all the fear and anger within me. Fear is too simple a word. Terror. That's what I feel.

Those things that are the most obvious are the very things we've most likely to overlook.

You can't escape what you are, but you also should know what you could be. Why you're fighting.

Sometimes you can hide just as effectively by sticking out.

There were hugs. There were words said by each of them. I don't remember what they were. Nothing haunts me more.