Pain Is Only What You Allow It

As Long As There Is Love And Memory, There Is No True Loss.

Comforting Someone When They Were Stricken With Loss Was Something Else. It Meant Commitment. It Meant Caring. It Meant You Wanted To Ease Their Pain, And At The Same Time You Were Thanking God That Whatever The Bad Thing Was That Had Happened, It Hadn't Happened To Them.

Or Perhaps This Hostility Of Yours Is The Pretense. Love Does Make Liars Out Of Your Kind.

To Her You're Jocelyn's Daughter. But I'll Always Be Valentine's Son

How Strange To Have The Power To Literally Transform Yourself Into Other People, And Yet Be So Unable To Put Yourself In Their Place.