It took a lot of work to be perfect. If you didn’t want to break a sweat, there was no point in even bothering.

That's not a real answer.' Says who?' Says me. I mean real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence.' Clowns.

Odd how it was so easy for a stranger to assume such familiarity. Especially when those who were supposed to know you best often didn't, not at all.

I knew that it wouldn’t last. It was just a moment, a perfect moment, as time stood still and fleetingly everything fell back into its proper place.

She was just a shell of her former self, functioning and talking but hardly alive.

I can say I made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret things. Because at least I didn't spend a life standing outside, wondering what living would be like.

Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn't. But understanding... that's where things get sticky.