There is a jigsaw piece in me that can never be filled.

I feel, and I feel, and there is nothing but emptiness in the absence of somethingness.

Everyone else has had their opportunities to shine. To have been in the right place at the right time. Some are heroines, some are miracle saviours, some are prodigies discovering aliens or new asteroids in outerspace.

And I really do try to be okay,...

The older kids say that the world used to have colour.

They whispered about an ocean sprawling across the horizon, glimmering gold underneath the afternoon sunlight. They told us that, before the war we used to have houses --- Real houses, not the four walls of empty space we have to share with four other children.

They said the crooked roof was usually bright blue or sunshine yellow, and the ...

Mom's hair used to be strawberry blonde. The sort of blonde you would only see on American bombshells at the bar.

But mom was nothing like a bar-goer in her manner. On the contrary, she was a gentle caretaker of two kids, that would choose sunbathing on a midsummer's beach over intoxication any day. Her skin was painted a pale, ethereal gold from her days spent by the sea, and bright specks of c...

When we don't allow ourselves to grieve, we end up becoming the grief.

In my mind, you're gone. You're like a bottomless void that never was and never will be, an opportunity that wouldn't have come in any parallel universe. But in my heart, things are different.

I still remember the way you hide underneath your hood when you're embarrassed, or how loud noises used to frustrate you so easily. ...