It Does'nt Matter Who Forgives You, If

When I Was Little, The Great Mystery To Me Was Not How Babies Were Made, But Why?

At 17, The Smallest Crises Took On Tremendous Proportions; Someone Else's Thoughts Could Take Root In The Loam Of Your Own Mind; Having Someone Accept You Was As Vital As Oxygen. Adults, Light Years Away From This, Rolled Their Eyes And Smirked And Said, 'this Too Shall Pass' - As If Adolescence Was A Disease Like Chicken Pox, Something Everyone Recalled As A Milk Nuisance, Completely Forgetting How Painful It Had Been At The Time.

My Dad Used To Say That Living With Regrets Was Like Driving A Car That Only Moved In Reverse.

When You’re Hurting Deeply, You Go Inward.

When She Wanted To Escape Her Life, She Read Books