This time, for the first time, I saw the possibilities in giving up. I even found hope in it.

The Golden Rule will always be good advice!

You can hear rumors. But you can't know them.

I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.

Imagine ten or tweleve orange chairs arrainged in a circle, with the happy woen from the flyer sitting at opposite ends. Only problem was, from day one, they weren't happy. Someone, whoever made that flyer, must have digitally turned their frowns upside down. They wrote about death. About the evilness of men. About the destruction of-and I quote- "the greenish, bluish orb with wisps of white." Seriously, that's how they descibed it. They went on to call Earth a knocked-up gaseous alien needing an abortion.

I was too weak to walk. At least, I thought I was too weak. But in truth, I was too weak to try.

We didn't get that chance because I was afraid. Afraid I had no chance with you.