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

But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.

One kiss, I was totally hooked.

Love means holding on to someone just as hard as you can because if you don't, one blink and they might disappear...forever.

Living means taking chances. Risks. Playing safe all the time is being dead inside, even if you happen to still be breathing.

I write books for young adults because I truly connect with them on some very deep level. They are our hope, our future, and inspiring them to be the best they can be is very important to me.

Don't bother Me with promises. Vows are cheaply manufactured, come with no guarantees. Don't bother to say you love me. The word is indefinable. Joy to some, heartbreak to others, depending on circumstance. There is evidence that the emotion can make a person live longer, evidence it can kill you early. I think it's akin to a deadly disease. Or at least some exotic fever. Catch it, and you'd better, quick, swallow some medication to use as a weapon against the fire ravaging body and soul.