I thought about how the smallest of things could set someone on a bustling fire when you didn't have the right shoulder to lean on.

You can't stay young forever. Being young is a privilege. God knows, how many of them in their death bed wished to be young again and they regretted all the things they should have and should not have done.

Things have their way of staying with you forever, haunting your sleep and giving you false hope.

I could just felt the twinge of resentment with her being there, where my mother was supposed to be. What right did she have, to replace that place?

That's the thing with you people. You think you could love someone one second and hate them the next. Well, you can't.

She'd brought everybody apart, tearing the whole family that was once a compact groundwork into a whole new design, ugly and non-structured.