Sometimes I wonder about people's background stories and why they say the things they do the way they do.
I think there's something profoundly sad in the way our lives unfold - it's a closed book with filled pages for one person and the imprint, but absence of a wedding ring for another.
Long sleeves and bitten down nails or plastic-filled lips.
A messy bedroom or a chronically clean kitchen.

Failed intentions and unsaid words or explosions of emotion that leave nothing but dust behind?

We all have stories we don't want to have.