Being In Love Means hard questions. Will I? Won't I? Should I? Could I? Yes? No? You? Me? There is no me without you. Is there a you without me? And if were truly one. how will I breathe when circomstance pries us apart? You are my oxygen. my substance, the blood inside my veins. When we touch, you are my skin. hold all my joy inside of you. When you go, I wither.

I have a really good idea of who my readers are and always write with a sensitivity to my audience. I use the F word when necessary, but there are words I won't use, mainly because I don't like them. I don't write about body parts when I write about sex. It's not about the physiological, it's more important for teens to read about the emotional aspects. I do think there are times when self-censorship is important.

I'm in love. And I like how that feels. And I hate how that feels. Because love is an invention of fiction writers.

Then I said it. He said it too. I love you. And everything that went before meant nothing.

No way to get away. No way to get away. Little change to sneak away... insanity.

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

Love is only found in books