It is the very last inch of us.

An inch. It is small and it is fragile and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.

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I don't think I have been this angry/offended in a really long time ( Read more... )

I'm tired of hearing people tell me we are the same person.
Is it some sort of justification? Because we're not.

Or maybe I am just a bitter young girl?

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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.

My dreams of late are making me uneasy.

rip my godmother, audrey. my mother's best friend.
the most compassionate person I have ever known.

(life's too short to be a fool).

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