Half Of Bravery Is Perspective.

And Don't Pay Attention To Christina. Your Face Doesn't Look That Bad." He Smiles A Little. "i Mean, It Looks Good. It Always Looks Good. I Mean--you Look Brave. Dauntless." His Eyes Skirt Mine, And He Scratches The Back Of His Head. The Silence Grows Between Us. It Was A Nice Thing To Say, But He Acts Like It Means More Than Just Words. I Hope I Am Wrong. I Could Not Be Attracted To Al-- I Could Not Be Attracted To Anyone That Fragile. I Smile As Much As My Bruised Cheek Will Allow, Hoping That Will Diffuse The Tension.

I Feel Like Someone Is Pressing Me Into A Mold That Does Not Fit My Body, Forcing Me Intothe Wrong Shape.

That’s One Way Of Looking At It. I Prefer To Look At It Another Way—which Is That If They Are Persistent Enough, Even Tiny Drops Of Water, Over Time, Can Change The Rock Forever. And It Will Never Change Back.

Oh For God's Sake. I'll Just Carry You.

I Have Discovered That Sitting Still Leaves Little Spaces For The Grief To Get In, So I Stay Busy.