I loved the way she survived. Survival looked good on her. There were no dark marks under her eyes. Maybe deep inside, but I liked the way she looked through them and laughed at life. She did it gracefully. She'd walked over glass and through fire, but still smiled. And, honestly, I'm not interested in people who haven't lived and died a few times. Who haven't yet had their heart ripped out, or know what it feels like to lose everything. I trust those people, because they stand for something. I knew what she'd been through. I wanted to thank her for surviving.
J. Raymond
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