I Was Attempting To Write

...but The Truth Is That I Don't Feel Like I Can Carry Anyone But Myself Right Now. The Streets Are Empty. I Am Empty. Or, No--i Am Full Of Pain. It's My Life That's Empty.

Having Someone Think Of Me That Way Was Like Discovering A New Window In The Room I'd Lived In All My Life.

Sorry To Be So Cynical, But This Is New York

When First Love Ends, Most People Eventually Know There Will Be More To Come. They Are Not Through With Love. Love Is Not Through With Them. It Will Never Be The Same As The First, But It Will Be Better In Different Ways.

I Am Starting To Get Tired Of Relying On Words.