No point in ignoring the truth. Doesn't make it worse to have it said out loud.

Like all bullies, they’re cowards underneath the swagger

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" I asked. My voice broke twice. He didn't push me away. He pulled me tight against his ice-hard chest, so tight it was hard to breathe, even with my lungs securely intact. "I know exactly what you mean," he whispered. "But we have lot of reasons to be happy. For one, we're alive." "Yes," I agreed. "That's a good one." "And together," he breathed. His breath was so sweet it made my head swim.

My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn't like math;in math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.

The shadows didn't seem as dark as usual. Not with my personal sun along.

You still owe me a yellow Porsche.