Bryan Reardon

Any anger I feel vanishes. What is left cannot be described. It is guilt piled onto emptiness and set afire.

Life is kind of like that, picking the memories you want to frame. We all have an idea of how it should be, all smiles and swing sets. There are the more unsavory moments that we leave in the box stashed up in the darker parts of our psyche. We know they exist but we don__ go flaunting them in front of the dinner guests.