A lot of you cared, just not enough.

I've always loved brainstorming with other writers, and I consider having my work critiqued a part of that brainstorming.

But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.

When you hold people up for ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it.

And what about you-the rest of you-did you notice the scars you left behind? No. Probably not. Because most of them can't be seen with the naked eye.

Whenever I'm out late she makes a sandwich for my school lunch. I always protest and tell her not to, saying I'll make my own when I get home. But she likes it. She says it reminds her of when I was younger and needed her.

When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?