“ How much dust can a body make? Little specks of death. Measuring life in millimeters. Ryan Galloway
“ Every heartbeat a syllable for words I can’t speak, to explain what I want from him. What I want from myself. To know and be known, totally and completely. To be someone worth knowing. Ryan Galloway
“ Maybe the problem with holding onto memories so tightly is that they don’t allow us to make room for the future. Maybe the gentle decay of the past is a blessing that dulls the sharp blade of regret,… Ryan Galloway
“ It was true—but it was harsh. And it feels like maybe a harsh truth can be as hurtful as a lie. Ryan Galloway
“ But when you’re a kid, it isn’t chaos. It’s just a heartbeat. Your house isn’t floating through space, it sits on the ground. Once you get old enough you start to see that color is just paint and door… Ryan Galloway
“ Tears sting my eyes once more, building up and rolling over my cheeks with the heat of a dying star. Isn’t that what death is? It’s forgetting. It’s letting go. We make peace with the dead to say good… Ryan Galloway
“ Nerve endings. That’s what it all comes down to. Billions of rooted synapses, like trees entwined in erratic soil. Lightning strikes every millionth of a second, the charges scattering across the gaps… Ryan Galloway
“ I don’t have to let anyone use me. I don’t have to bend the truth. Even if I’m not ready to forgive just yet, I don’t have to be tied to my scars, to the people who wounded me, or to the anger and fea… Ryan Galloway
“ I wonder if this is how it feels to grow old. Knowing that time is still passing but you’re no longer a part of it. Ryan Galloway
