Words. Borne on the ever swelling current of hatred, like flowers opening in the current, petals peeling back, then falling apart.

Every moment must be first known and then savored.

I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them.

The truth is, laughter always sounds more perfect than weeping. Laughter flows in a violent riff and is effortlessly melodic. Weeping is often fought, choked, half strangled, or surrendered to with humiliation.

Strong women are absolutely unpredictable.

I don't believe in hell. The idea that a supreme being would make hell is ridiculous. An eternity of pain that results in no learning, reformation or rebirth is a nauseating idea. It's one of the reasons I left Christianity. I simply could not accept that version of God.

And I realized that I’d tolerated him this long because of self-doubt.