Love Weaves Itself From Hundreds

For The First Time In My Life I Realize Why Hangers Are Called Hangers, Because After Fifteen Minutes Of Trying Things On And Throwing Them Aside, All I Want To Do Is Hook One To The Top Of My Closet Door, Lean My Neck Into The Loop, And Let My Weight Fall.

Some Days Are Like This. And The Only Way To Get Through Them Is To Remember That They Are Only One Day, And That Every Day Ends.

I Was Attempting To Write The Story Of My Life. It Wasn't So Much About Plot. It Was Much More About Character.

I Know There Are Epic Tales Of Romance, Where Love Means You're Supposed To Die. Where It's All About Sacrifice. But I Don't Want To Die. I Don't Want Stephen To Die. I'm Looking For The Scenario Where We Both Get To Live. Where We Can Continue This Marvel That Is Love And Discovery And Trust.

With Some Break-ups, All You Can Think About Afterwards Is How Badly It Ended And How Much The Other Person Hurt You. With Others, You Become Sentimental For The Good Times And Lose Track Of What Went Wrong.