If you want something to be true badly enough, you can rewrite it that way, in your head. You can even start to believe it.

I cannot admit this out loud. In the first place, we are expected to be supermoms these days, instead of admitting that we have flaws. It is tempting to believe that all mothers wake up feeling fresh every morning, never raise their voices, only cook with organic food, and are equally at ease with the CEO and the PTA.

I think her flaws make me love her even more. She's not perfect, but she's perfect to me

What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.

Once, I asked my mom why stars shine. She said they were night-lights, so the angels could find their way around in Heaven. But when I asked my dad, he started talking about gas, and somehow I put it all together and figured that the food God served caused multiple trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

As it turned out, though, it was a lot easier to say that someone deserved to die for what they did than it was to take the responsibility to make that happen.

Part of growing up was learning not to be quite that honest - learning when it was better to lie, rather than to hurt someone with the truth.