...and these words are coming out now because I hope to make it evident how blackened this little girl's heart has become from being burned so many times. Hardened like coal inside a steel frame, it is anything less than strong. Sleep would feel awkward, as the rain pours down, never stopping to allow my head to feel still again.

I can't breathe without thinking.

Because finding hope again is like looking for a needle in a haystack, I must say giving a rest to the quest for untimely hope seems to be the right choice.

I've tried to press all my love into the corner of my heart, to make room for all the others I have left to love but...

I still can't breathe.