I’m tired of the lies and the cheating, and the broken promises that were never meant to be kept.
It moves at its own measured pace, for it has no reason to hurry. Tomorrow will come in its own good time.
Jamie enjoyed solitude, but loneliness was a constant ache.
If. A two-letter word for futility.
When they die, no one will ever know that they lived on this earth.
I love the freedom that the narrative form provides.