The Ones We Trust

In my experience, people who don't stick around during the hard times weren't worth having around anyway.

Secrets are a sneaky little seed. You can hide them, you can bury them, you can disguise them, and cover them up. But then just when you think your secret has rotted away and decayed into nothing, it stirs back to life. It sprouts roots and stems, crawls its way through the mud and muck, growing and climbing, and bursting through the surface, blooming for everyone to see. That's the lesson here. The truth always comes out eventually.

The problem with half-truths, I'm discovering, is that they are also half-lies.

A very smart woman once told me that anger can feel like a life buoy, like it's the only thing keeping you afloat, but that in order to heal you have to let go.

That's what makes a tragedy a tragedy. There's no rhyme or reason to it, only heartbreak. The only thing you can do when the ground stops shaking and the waters recede is try to save whoever's left.

Just because something's the truth doesn't make it right.