And I realize, so suddenly that it hurts, just how empty a creature can be, while still filled to the brim with drowning agony.

Once a month, for one evening, we are free to wear our natural skins. We are on the outside as we are internally.

No amount of speed could break me of this darkness... The sorrow is ever clinging to me.

It's what we do, we continue on. Yet, what is the point? There is nothing ahead of us when there is nothing left of us.

We aren't taught to mourn. We're told to forget.

He wouldn't have been able to purchase this house if he wasn't so talented at tearing people down.