What we have in common is what keeps us apart.

I say you hurt me. You say I scorned you. We say we care. It begins. The conversation begins.

What we have in common is what keeps us apart.

Humor tells you where the trouble is.

Sometimes I feel like a sisterless child.

The question arises as to whether it is possible not to live in the world of men and still to live in the world.

Everytime I say "sure" when I mean "no," everytime I smile brightly when I'm exploding with rage, every time I imagine my man's achievement is my own, I know the cheerleader never really died. I feel her shaking her ass inside me and I hear her breathless, girlish voice mutter "T-E-A-M, Yea, Team.