Grief Is Like Sinking, Like Being Buried.

I’ve Been Trying So Hard Not To Think His Name, Not To Even Breathe The Idea Of Him

I Want To Be Healed And Whole And Perfect Again, Like A Misshapen Slab Of Iron That Comes Out Of The Fire Glowing, Glittering, Razor-sharp.

Chance. Stupid, Dumb, Blind Chance. Just A Part Of The Strange Mechanism Of The World, With Its Fits And Coughs And Starts And Random Collisions.

It's Going To Be Okay. Words That Mean Nothing. Really, Just Sounds Intoned Into Vastness And Darkness, Little Scrabbling Attempts To Latch On To Something When We're Falling.

People Need Other People To Feel Things For Them," She Said. "it Gets Lonely To Feel Things All By Yourself.