Funny how everything can change in an instant. From death to life. From empty to full. From darkness to light.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about leaving – you can’t really go back.

Time isn’t running out. It’s not even real, It’s just a measure of distance we made up to understand things. Like an inch. Or a mile. Clocks do not measuring time. They creat it!

Intention is nice, but it’s a thing sometimes based more on hope than on reality.

Time isn’t running out. It’s not even real,” he said, and I knew I had lost him – he was lost, circling in his own mind. “It’s just a measure of distance we made up to understand things. Like an inch. Or a mile.

Maybe hell was just an absence of something. A void waiting to be filled.

The darkness lives in everyone. She knew this better than anyone. Everyone had two faces, and she looked deep into us until she found it.

But friends to call for the deep things, the things that live in the dark spaces of our hearts? Those people didn’t exist for me any longer.

There’s no pattern to falling in love. At least, nothing I can understand. Not something I could see beforehand. Not something I can decipher after, either. Trust can be earned, piece by piece, like links of a chain. But love is more like faith, or belief: it’s a leap. It’s hurtling over the edge of the cliff and trusting you will not drown.

The past, boxed up and stacked out of sight. But never too far away.