One Must Not Speak Of Such Things.

Twice We Stood Beside Each Other At The Altar, Rosie. Twice. And Twice We Got It Wrong. I Needed You To Be There For My Wedding Day But I Was Too Stupid To See That I Needed You To Be The Reason For My Wedding Day. But We Got It All Wrong.

I Can’t Even Think About What Life “could Have Been” Like In Boston, Without Crying. It’s Like Deja-vu, I Don’t Think Me And Boston Were Ever Meant To Be.

All Families Have Their Secrets, Most People Would Never Know Them, But They Know There Are Spaces, Gaps Where The Answers Should Be, Where Someone Should Have Sat, Where Someone Used To Be. A Name That Is Never Uttered, Or Uttered Just Once And Never Again. We All Have Our Secrets.

There’s Something Completely Unnerving About Seeing Your Parents Upset. I Suppose It’s Because They’re Supposed To Be The Strong Ones, But That’s Not Just It. Ever Since People Are Kids They Use Their Parents As Some Sort Of Measurement For How Bad A Situation Is. When You Fall On The Ground Really Hard And You Can’t Figure Out Whether It Hurts Or Not You Look To Your Parents. If They Look Worried And Rush Toward You, You Cry. If They Laugh And Smack The Ground Saying “bold Ground,” Then You Pick Yourself Up And Get On With It.

What Seems Tragic Now Won't Even Be An Issue In A Few Years Time.