We're all slaves to circumstances, some more so than others, and I don't know about you, but that makes me feel rather claustrophobic.

Even that pink tinge cannot block out the sensation, of that invisible grime of the past.

I wish you knew, I wish you knew just how much grief that had caused me. You are free to do or think whatever you want, but it's all been done, you know?

I wish she knew.