Between a man and a woman there was always one person who was stronger than the other one. That doesn’t mean the weaker one doesn’t love the stronger.

How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?

Last night it had been my father who had finally said it: "She’s never coming home." A clear and easy piece of truth that everyone who had ever known me had accepted. But he needed to say it, and she needed to hear him say it.

Then a little voice in him said, Let go, let go, let go

Out loud I said I had two children. Silently I said three. I always felt like apologizing to her for that.

And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be.

You could not be filled with hate and be beautiful. Like any other girl, I wanted to be beautiful. But I was filled with hate.