The Truth Is... You Are

I Understand Why She Did All Those Things, But That Doesn't Mean We Aren't Still Broken.

One Piece Of Advice I Have Is: Want Something Else More Than Success. Success Is A Lovely Thing, But Your Desire To Say Something, Your Worth, And Your Identity Shouldn’t Rely On It, Because It’s Not Guaranteed And It’s Not Permanent And It’s Not Sufficient. So Work Hard, Fall In Love With The Writing — The Characters, The Story, The Words, The Themes — And Make Sure That You Are Who You Are Regardless Of Your Life Circumstances. That Way, When The Good Things Come, They Don’t Warp You, And When The Bad Things Hit You, You Don’t Fall Apart.

I Have Discovered That Sitting Still Leaves Little Spaces For The Grief To Get In, So I Stay Busy.

Are You Conceding?' He Says, His Mouth Falling Open With Mock Surprise. 'seems Like That Serum Did You Some Good After All...' I Shove Him As Hard As I Can. 'take That Back. Take It Back Now.' 'okay, Okay!' He Puts Up His Hands. 'it's Just... I'm Not Very Nice Either, You Know. That's Why I Like You So- ' 'out!' I Shout, Pointing At The Door.

This Concept Could Easily Have Gone Awry. Stories About Love Tend To Go That Way Sometimes. They Wander Into The Realm Of Cheese And Never Return, Which I Think Is A Shame, Because There Is A Way To Write About Romantic Love Without Breaking Out The Velveeta.