Because that's the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into my lunges. I want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. It's mine. I want to check out with it, drift asleep wrapped in its arms and not wake up for a long, long time.

There are some people in life that you can't get over.

Umbrellas are so small and sad and easy to forget.

Why is it that the right people never wind up together? Why are people so afraid to leave a relationship, even if they know it's a bad one?

I know you aren't perfect. But it's a person's imperfections that make them perfect for someone else.

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you."

What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.