It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.

Because that's the thing about mean people: They make you think that the world will never work, that there are divides that you will fall into if you approach. It takes a whole lot of good people to fill in the breach created by a single mean one.

I wake up thinking of yesterday. The joy is in remembering; the pain is in knowing it was yesterday.

Maybe there's a way to keep us in this moment. Not the sad part. But the coming together part.

That's what it felt like - that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love.

Readers embrace all kinds of characters as long as they are written with emotional truth.