I hate to say it, but shit really does happen. You just have to get over it. Beat the hell out of it by doing things that make you happy.

I guess sometimes the greatest memories are made in the most unlikely of places, further proof that spontaneity is more rewarding than a meticulously planned life.

I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, but I do know that I want to do whatever it is and get there soon.

Live in the moment... where everything is just right, take your time and limit your bad memories and you'll get wherever it is you're going a lot faster and with less bumps in the road along the way.

I’m starting to get used to this feeling of not caring about anything.

There was no logic or any sense of purpose except that I knew I had to do something other than what I was doing, or I might not make it through this.

Yesterday I thought about why I felt the need to get up at exactly the same time as the day before and do everything I did the day before. Why? What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?

Who needs psychiatrists? Who needs grief counsellors and life coaches and motivational speakers? Fuck all that! Just stare at the night sky and let yourself get lost in it every now and then.

But as I stood there dressed in a cute black pants suit and white button-up shirt and heels, I felt completely out of place. Not necessarily because of the clothes, but…I just don’t belong there. I can’t put my finger on it, but that Monday and the rest of that week when I woke up, got dressed and walked into that store, something was itching the back part of my consciousness. I couldn’t hear the actual words, but it felt like: This is your life, Camryn Bennett. This is your life.