Just remember that those who feel profoundly depressed are those whose happiness is likewise intense. What's so wrong with that?
I don't think I've ever dared to write down what I see in the ruins of me, or tell in any detail the scars and all their secrets.
The parts of me that hurt the worst want me to write something for them, but I can't. I don't know what to say. I'm lost in all this sadness, and so are they.
I think there were times when I was so afraid of losing you that I forgot I even had you at all.
It's so hard to find the place somewhere in the middle of the best and worst I've felt.
We may seem fine, even when the pain remains right there beneath our surface.