I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held. Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do.
Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.
It is better to be alone, she figures, than to be with someone who can’t see who you are.
The fact that I’m silent doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.