There Are No Safe Rooms, No Safe

It Reminds Me That No Embrace Will Ever Feel The Same Again, Because No One Will Ever Be Like Her Again, Because She's Gone. She's Gone, And Crying Feels So Useless, So Stupid, But It's All I Can Do.

If I Let A Little Of The Emotion Out, All Of It Will Come Out, And It Will Never End.

Who Cares About Everyone? What About Me?

This Concept Could Easily Have Gone Awry. Stories About Love Tend To Go That Way Sometimes. They Wander Into The Realm Of Cheese And Never Return, Which I Think Is A Shame, Because There Is A Way To Write About Romantic Love Without Breaking Out The Velveeta.

No. Because It's So Stupid No Dauntless With Any Sense Would Speak It, Let Alone Think It. Pansycake. What Are You, Twelve?" "and A Half," He Says.