That's because you've never been one. You haven't spent years wearing someone else's clothes, taking someone else's name, living in someone else's houses, and working someone else's job to fit in. And if you don't sell out, then you run away... proving you're the Gypsy they said you were all along.

An item that looks perfectly normal on the surface might only be disguised.

I don't believe in writer's block. Most of writer's block is having too much time on your hands. My mantra is that you can always edit a bad page; you can't edit a blank page.

What she couldn't put into word was what had happened in between to change her from one person into the other

You know how hind-sight is 20/20? Love is when you look back and wouldn't change anything.

Wheather it is conscious or not, you eventually make the decision to divide your life in half - before and after - with loss being that tight bubble in the middle. You can move around in spite of it; you can laugh and smile and carry on with your life, but all it takes is one slow range of motion, a doubling over, to be fully aware of the empty space at your center.

Why are you doing this to yourself? When something bad happens, why do you have to pick at it until it bleeds all over again?