A Week Went By And Nothing. But

When You Write A Book For Publication, You're Writing It For Other People To Read.

How Can You Call It Love When It Hurt You So Badly?" "it Was Love Because It Was Worth It.

You Told Me I Wrote That Poem Because I Was Afraid Of Dealing With Myself. And I Used My Mom As An Excuse, Accusing Her Of Not Appreciating Or Accepting Me, When I Should Have Been Saying Those Words Into A Mirror.

I’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.

She Wants To Believe My Excuses So Bad. Every Time I Lie, She Wants To Believe Me So Much.