People talk about the pain of grief, but I don't know what they mean. To me, grief is a devastating numbness, every sensation dulled.

You know, there's a word for big, strong men who attack women, and it's coward.

I feel like myself, strong and weak at once - allowed, at least for a little while, to be both.

He is not sweet or gentle or particularly kind. But he is smart and brave, and even though he saved me, he treated me like I was strong. That is all I need to know.

i happen to enjoy categorization.

I'll have to keep looking for more of them, more brief moments of freedom in a world that refuses to allow it.

I know that change is difficult, and comes slowly, and that it is the work of many days strung together in a long line until the origin of them is forgotten.