Betrayal was a stone beneath a mattress of thr bed you shared, something you felt digging into you no matter how you shifted position. What was the point of being able to forgive, when deep down, you both had to admit you'd never forget?

There are certain things I do not talk about.

I don't believe in writer's block. Think about it - when you were blocked in college and had to write a paper, didn't it always manage to fix itself the night before the paper was due? Writer's block is having too much time on your hands.

She became whoever she needed to be to survive,but she never let anyone else define her.

Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.

Sometimes knowing what's right isn't a rational decision, or even what works on paper. Sometimes leaving is the best course of action after all.

Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I've decided, is only a slow sewing shut.