Growing up means :propelling yourself forward into whatever lies ahead, one turn of the wheel at a time.

How weird that must be, to stay the same as everyone else changes.

Maybe it was just part of growing up with someone. Once you have a rhythm and stay with it long enough, it's not hard to find again.

Says the girl with no thyme.

It's always been hard to call myself a writer. I think a part of me still thinks it's too good to be true.

I'd come here planning to leave as soon as I could. It was a pit stop, not a destination. I had my whole life mapped out." "So what happened?" "I guess that map didn't turn out to be mine after all.

I'd still thought that everything I thought about that night-the shame, the fear-would fade in time. But that hadn't happened. Instead, the things that I remembered, these little details, seemed to grow stronger, to the point where I could feel their weight in my chest. Nothing, however stuck with me more than the memory of stepping into that dark room and what I found there, and how the light then took that nightmare and made it real.