She felt as if a little part of her died. That initial anger she felt had turned to sadness, and now it had become something else, almost a dullness of sorts. Even though she was constantly in motion it seemed as if nothing special ever happened to her anymore. Each day seemed exactly like the last, and she had trouble differentiating among them. One time, she sat at her desk trying to remember the last spontaneous thing she’d done. She couldn’t think of anything.

- Nicholas Sparks (Message in a Bottle)

(via ponyanarchy)