I've Always Written In First Person. It

As If He Was Beating Me To The Punch, His Words Living Forever, While I Was Left Speechless, No Rebuttal, No Words Left To Say.

Grieving Doesn't Make You Imperfect. It Makes You Human.

Sorry!' Dave's Friend Yelled When He Saw Me. 'that Was My-' But I Wasn't Listening As,instead,i Took Every Bit Of The Anger And Stress Of The Last Few Minutes And Days Put It Behind The Ball, Throwing It Overhead At The Basket As Hard As I Could. It Went Flying, Hitting The Backboard And Banging Through The Netless Hoop At Full Speed Before Shooting Back Out And Nailing Dave Wade Squarely On The Forehead. And Just Like That, He Was Down.

When You've Never Gotten Love From Someone, You Don't Know What It Might Look Like If It Ever Does Appear. You Look For It In Everything: Any Bright Light Overhead Could Be A Star.

But Something, Somehow, Had Made All These Paths Converge. You Couldn't Find It On A Checklist, Or Work It Into The Equation. It Just Happened.