The problem with being grounded is it gives you a whole lot of unavoidable time to think. NOt even pulling weeds can take away your ability to plot all the varied and wonderful things you might do to get even, or at least to make up, just get a smidgen for time lost to TV and yard work and house cleaning.

Defiance rose up like vomit. I swung back and yelled, "Don't ever do that again!

Forgiveness is easy. Trust is much more difficult, and should never be given lightly.

When all choice is taken from you, life becomes a game of survival.

Because to tell you the truth, most of the time dying seems pretty much like my only means of escape

Grandma once told me it's easy to overthink love, to dissect it and question it until it is no more.

But hey, I'm not exactly sold on the idea that love is, in fact, real. Will it find me one day, overtake me, infiltrate my life like sunlight snakes through the cold of morning? Can love thaw me? will it ever?