Torn Between Fear And Something That Resembled

Wheather It Is Conscious Or Not, You Eventually Make The Decision To Divide Your Life In Half - Before And After - With Loss Being That Tight Bubble In The Middle. You Can Move Around In Spite Of It; You Can Laugh And Smile And Carry On With Your Life, But All It Takes Is One Slow Range Of Motion, A Doubling Over, To Be Fully Aware Of The Empty Space At Your Center.

I Personally Subscribe To The Belief That Normal Is Just A Setting On The Dryer.

My Friends Say I Have Two Speeds: Fast And Blistering.

There Are Just As Many Stories To Be Told In The Dark Spots S There Are In The Bright Ones.

In Half Hour My Mother Has Managed To Give Me What My Father Couldn't: My Past.