Authors have to write for their characters, for who they are, that's the strength of books. Don't worry about censors. Just write the story you need to tell and the rewards will come.

I'm a total wreck. Afraid to let anyone near. Afraid they'll see the real me.

Falling in love with someone is the surest highway to hurt that I know. When the door to love opens, the window to control closes.

That's what I'll be. A silhouette, rarely seen, and yet believed in. Kaeleigh wants to believe in me. I am her twin, forever alive inside her. And when she needs me, I am always here.

How odd, to suddenly glimpse a facet of me I didn't know existed. I guess it really isn't all that unusual to surprise oneself with an ugly bit of ego.

You have to realize there is nothing more you can do to convince someone you love to turn their life around. You simply have to say, "Look. I love you, but I cannot stand by and watch you kill yourself slowly. When you want help I'm here. Until then, goodbye." That may sound cruel, but self-preservation is paramount to helping someone else. If you're a wreck, you're useless to them, anyway. And if they refuse help, despite knowing the likely outcome, they will head down that path anyway.

So when he asked about getting high, I didn't think, I agreed. We smoked some good California green. Took three tries to put me in the place he said I should be.