Maybe love
will let me beat my fists against its chest
until my roaring turns to wracking sobs

Maybe love will withstand my long silences
and become my hiding place,
become the jar I pour my hurt into
and the arms that squeeze me back together
again.

These feelings are no more than residue that time will clear away;
I cannot make them go.

I must simply keep them to myself and wait for them to pass.
That is all.

Life is so, so good.
I am so happy to be alive. 

He came back to me today.

There's power in the knowledge that you are wanted.

And some stupid, stupid part of me wants it all back.

The people who'll stick with you when things go haywire; those are the people you want in your life. Everyone else can go.

I will not seek the approval of those who only like me when everything goes right.

It doesn't matter if I stand alone sometimes.
It won't keep me from achieving my dreams.

I HATE Google plus.
All the changes make me feel like I'm losing control on my privacy; even the privacy settings are too limited.

You gotta be careful with false confidence. Sometimes it can let you down.

I threw a month away today. I wadded it up into a paper ball and I dropped it into the trash.
The thinness of my calendar does something to my gut. Because there is this month, and then one more, and then I will be 21.
I can't be 21.
I wasn't even a teenager. I wasn't even 20. I have nothing to show for my past two decades of life--nothing big or glamorous.

When your eyes fall heavy on a train, and your breathing slows and head begins to droop, only your subconscious can tell that time is passing, the way you are passing through space, from point A to point B.
But you don't know.
When you open your eyes with a start from the jolt of the train as it rumbles on the tracks, you are suddenly in  a whole new place. In the space of a second.

My clock reads 9:01 PM, but my heart insists it is only afternoon, and there is still some day left to be lived. Time, unfortunately, is not in the habit of listening to me.