Memories, You See, Hurt. The Good Ones

When I Was Seventeen, I Worked As A Counsellor At A Co-ed Sleep-away Camp For Eight Weeks. I Loved It But It Could Be Harrowing - It Was Far Too Much Responsibility For Someone My Age.

Im 48 Years Old, Not A Kid Anymore By Any Definition, But Here Is A Universal Truth That Every Adult At Some Point Will Realize: We Are All Always 17 Years Old, Waiting For Our Lives To Begin.

Hope Can Be The Most Wonderful Thing In The World Or It Can Crush Your Heart Like An Eggshell.

We All Think That We Are Uniquely Complex, That No One Can See What We Are Thinking - Yet We Also Believe That We Have The Rare Ability To Read Others. This Fascinates Me At The Moment.

Only Bad Writers Think They're Good.