And as ridiculous as it may sound, sometimes all any of us needs in life is for someone to hold our hand and walk next to us.

L.A is a huge place, literally and metaphorically. Its beauty and horror. Its unconventional history. Its draw and allure. Its diversity and segregation.

There is emotion in the hug, and there is respect and a form of love. Emotion that comes from honesty, respect that comes from challenge, and the form of love that exists between people whose minds have touched, whose hearts have touched, whose souls have touched. Our minds touched. Our hearts touched. Our souls touched. We separate.

And loss of control is always the source of fear. It is also, however, always the source of change.

Trauma is survivable, but often not much more. It kills you while allowing you to still live.

Stay. Fight. Live. Take it. Cry. Cry. Cry.

I don't write with an outline. I don't often know what I'm going to do as I'm writing. And I do everything by feel and by instinct.