#Momlife

“Some people hate the thought of being alone. I’m not like that. I love my solitude. I’m kind to myself. My feelings don’t get hurt. My energy’s not leeched. And it’s very peaceful.”

“Forgive me if I don’t talk much at times. It’s loud enough in my head.”

“When people treat you like they don’t care, believe them.”

“Let’s raise children who won’t have to recover from their childhoods.”

“I am a strong person. But every once in a while I would like someone to hold my hand and tell me things are going to be OK.”

Most consider knowing all-consuming love a blessing, but I consider it a curse. A curse I’ll never be able to lift. I’ll never know love again as I did here all those years ago. And I don’t want to. I can’t. I’m still sick with it. There is no question in my mind that for me, it was love. What other pull could be so strong? What other feeling could addict me to the point of insanity? Of doing the things I did and living with these memories within this ghost story.

'I think you may be overlooking one of the important nuances of human communication,' he replies. I glance his way, the phone still buzzing in my hand. 'What?' Ilmari just shrugs, his gaze on the road. 'No answer is still an answer.'