“ People only picked the pretty, sweet-smelling flowers. The ones with thorns were left alone. ”
We feel most alive when we are closest to death.
~ Nenia Campbell
All statistics have outliers.
Nobody wants to believe that existence carries on without at least taking a stumble from their departure of this world.
Happiness is such a fragile thing, isn't it? So easily burst, like a bubble blown by a child, and always on the verge of being carried away.
