Communication. It’s the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or how to ask for what we really need.

grey’s anatomy

the 5 stages of grief

Denial

Anger

Bargaining

Depression

Acceptance

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us. And sometimes, they win.

Stephen King

need a drink, stat.

once i loved
damien rice

once i loved
and i gave so much love to this love
It was the world to me

once i cried
at the thought i was foolish and proud and let you say goodbye

then one day
from my infinite sadness you came and brought me love again
now, now i know
that no matter whatever befalls
i’ll never let you go
i will hold you close, night and day
because love is the saddest thing when it goes away

remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. live it, feel it, cling to it. i want to become acutely aware of all i’ve taken for granted.

sylvia plath

It still amazes me how you can get an ache from anything. From listening to the beginning note to what used to be your favorite song, or a line from a new one that just hits a nerve you never knew you had. From seeing just a flicker of a 3 second clip of a movie you watched with certain someone while in the middle of flipping through the channels searching for something to watch. Reading one word or one single phrase that you were used to hearing a lot but now haven’t heard in a long time. From the scent of some nobody you pass by on the street that only reminds you of somebody you used to know, somebody you wish you still knew. From being within the location of where you had your happiest moments. From suddenly remembering a memory that somehow spiraled from a thought so unrelated, but somehow still found a way to connect, that your thoughts always seem to go back to. From anything and everything that was considered *ours* — not yours or mine, but ours — all the things we had together. From seeing someone who looks exactly like him or her but isn’t exactly him or her but just some beautiful stranger. And it’s an ache that both hurts, yet yearns for something more — whether it’s be to be healed, or to go back in time and redo what can’t be redone. It’s an ache you can only hope will go away, but sometimes it never does. And all it becomes is a smaller ache, a pinch so minuscule, the feeling is fleeting — or maybe it just becomes something you’ve gotten used to living with, like a permanent scar across your heart.