If You Don't Know Who You Are,

I Think That's The Function Of A Lot Of Psychiatrists And Therapists, Is Keeping People Afloat Just Long Enough For Them To Get Older.

There Is A Blessing In Losing The One We Love. It's The Blessing Of Self-transformation. You Don't Have To Who You Were Anymore. You've Struggled. And Now You Can Change. It Doesn't Mean That Bits Of That Person Won't Cling To You, They Will Throughout Your Life, But They Are Now Subsumed Into Something Greater. That Person Has Given You, In Fact, The Most Important Blessing, Which Is They Gave You The Blessing Of Transforming Your Soul Into Something Better, Something More Beautiful.

He Was Only Twenty-five.he Was Young Enough To Miss His Youth Just As It Was Slipping Away. The Worst Kind Of Loss-the One That Is Happening As You Feel It.

When He Kisses Me, I Cry. I Explain It's Not Because I Wish He Were Someone Else, It's Because It's Such A Shock To The System To Be Desired After Feeling So Completely Abandoned.

We Intersect. He Says He Thanks Every Star That We Existed On The Same Celestial Plain. But Here We Are On Earth, Dirty, Well Used, A Man-made Throughway For Intersecting Dreams.