It was too much. The comfortable people made comfortable jokes about weather and things but I sat mostly silent saying a word or so when necessary a word or so trying to hide from them the fact that I was a fool and feeling terrible And I was numb, numb again, numb again again and again, numbness and pain swelling in me.

Only the boring get bored

I am a series of small victories and large defeats.

writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all

from the beginning, through the middle years and up to the end: too bad, too bad, too bad.

Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.

when I am feeling low all i have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns