That Was The Hard Thing

I Was Actually Pretty Miserable In High School. I Couldn't Wait For It To Be Over. And When It Finally Was, I Remember Sitting At Graduation With All These Classmates Getting Nostalgic And Emotional Already And All I Could Think Was, "get Me Out Of Here. I Never Want To See You People Again." So It's Ironic That I Spend Half My Day Putting Myself Back There By Choice [while Writing].

If You Didn't Always Have To Choose Between Turning Away For Good Or Rushing In Deeper. In The Moments That It Really Counts, Maybe It's Enough - More Than Enough, Even - Just To Be There.

For Two Hours I'd Felt Myself Stretching Tighter And Tighter, Like A Rubber Band Pulled To The Point Of Snapping. And Now, I Could Feel The Smaller, Weaker Part Of Myself Beginning To Fray, Tiny Bits Giving Way Before The Big Break.

The Chances We Take, Knowing No Better Than To Fall Or To Stand Back And Hold Ourselves In... Protecting Our Hearts With The Tightest Of Grips.

The Only Thing I Can't Stand More Than Seeing Something Done Wrong Is Seeing It Done Slowly.