Anger requires energy, something I don't dare waste on what cannot be altered.

At Last It's a perfect winter day. No wind. No Arctic freeze. Cloudless azure sky. A day to fly. Snow drapes the mountain like ermine, fabulous feather- light powder coaxing me to flee the confines of my room, brave the mostly plowed road up to the closest ski resort. To run from the cloying silence connected Mom and Dad, into encompassing stillness far away from city dirt and noise Far above suburban gridlock. Far beyond the grasp of home.

Freedom is a double-edged ideal, because true freedom comes without the protection of laws that also enslave us by defining us--female, male; Christian, Islamic; good, evil. All at the whim of a frail minority.

Can’t promise I’ll stay. That would be lying. And I’m so, so tired of lies.

Something stirred beneath my skin, some being inside I'd only suspected existed, demon or angel, I couldn't say.

I wish I were worthy of his love. (Any love.)I should tell him to run. But I can't. I need him.

Was the fun in the fall?