It was time to let go of the mad desire to remember. It was time to start living whatever life would come. In the present, not the past.

So it's pretty simple. Go sing. Sing well or sing badly -it doesn't matter, as long as you sing your fucking heart out.

Waking up to a smell is a lot more satisfying than waking up to a noise. Instead of barging in uninvited and yanking you out into reality, smells enter your dreams with a silent knock and a polite "Excuse me?

The sun kept dipping down into the ocean and the lights came on at the harbor, casting sudden shadows on the ground, illuminating the faces that were just a second ago silhouettes. The sky was golden and purple, the ocean a darker shade of violet.

Funny, how it took a little bit of pain to remember that certain parts of yourself were alive.

What if she was supposed to be a painter, but no one ever gave her a brush?