She thrived from chaos, embraced every high and every low. It was the only way she knew how to live. And perhaps, just maybe, she understood more about life than they ever could.

She learned to rejoice in the chaos, for without the darkness she would be blind to the light.

Never underestimate the kind, for even the gentlest of souls house a sleeping giant buried deep within their form.

Life is a series of tragedies wrapped tightly in beautiful ribbons of hope.

And every night she dreamed of reinventing herself and every morning she convinced herself she needed one more day.

She was a composer, carefully orchestrating how much of herself she let people see. Some thought they had all of her, but she knew better. She was a genius living amongst the mad.