Even if someone is overcome with rage, it takes amazing arrogance to kill.
The woman I was seems hopelessly naive. I envy her.
In the end, I cared about him so much that I just thought he deserved someone who loved him more than I did.
I think that's the moment when we all grow up, when we stop blaming our parents for the messes we've made out of our lives and start owning the consequences of our actions.
Today something interesting happened. I died.
It's strange how memory gets twisted and pulled like taffy in its retelling, how a single event can mean something different to everyone present.