-My sister is a work of art. A beauty that can neither be recreated nor destroyed. She is strong, and she is weak, She is a girl who strives for perfection and in my eyes has achieved just that. She is young and wild. She is an old sould and careful.

-I miss people. People who are still alive. And while I say that I miss them, it sounds like I've laid them all to rest with the Lord. Is it possible to miss people before they actually fade from your life physically? I miss those people and who they were to me.

-Death is such a cruel thing. But it brings families together. I love observing the way families grieve toegther. I always wonder, do they grieve like us?

- I saw wher you died tonight. I didn't even know you. I had never heard of you until the accident, but now I pray for you.

-The life of a teenager is scary. I am sure that as I get older, each stage in life will be just as scary. But I'm living in the now, in this moment. And this moment has me terrified! I keep looking around for the correct path to take and can't quite keep my eyes in focus to know which one to choose. So the whole process begins again. I am like a chicken running with it's head cut off.

- I hardly ever write anymore. I put my pen or pencil to the paper, and I just cannot do it. I feel like everytime I do touch the ink to the paper, I bleed out my veins with every truth in my head. And the truth is scary! Yet it hurts me to know that the thing I have a passion for-writing- is something I struggle to do! I understand most of my crazy antics- Washing my hands twenty times before bed, getting sick after eating meat, or the way I just simply hurt- but how can my passion, the thing I love, enjoy, and soak up, be so difficult to do?