A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. "Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us." We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.

I want to know living love. And I don't want to wait for it.

Learning by example is valid, but when you have the information to know that turning in a certain direction can lead you to a very wrong place, most of the "blame" is on the individual.

Once ...Why ...lie? ...when ...truth is ...the easier path

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

Funny how when your life is mostly bullshit, you turn off feeling. Sometimes it's hard to turn it back on again.

I never went to Albuquerque expecting to find love. I thought it had found me there, followed me home. I never came home expecting to lose love in the space of one brief telephone call. Is it always so short-lived?