She lacks confidence, she craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not dare to be herself.

Anything I cannot transform into something marvelous, I let go.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds, it dies of weariness of witherings of tarnishings.

We travel, some of us forever to seek other states other lives other souls.