I am different. And I don't understand exactly how. And I don't understand just why.

I was about six years old, still Daddy's little girl, even though Daddy couldn't care less about me. How could I expect any man every would?

I nod, because I do understand. I'm just not sure how to go about divorcing myself from the evil I've already accepted.

They think old people are lame. But they're not. They're awesome, & I know exactly why I think so. It's because they've lived entire lifetimes. Loved. Laughed. Surrendered. Stumbled. Weathered, beaten, still they don't crumble, not even as they inch toward death.

She is angle. I am curve. Together, we are geometric sculpture, and we make perfect sense.

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

in a woman's womb. another chance. to make the world better.