But All The Love In The World

Morgan Sighed. "i," She Announced, "am So Pathetic." "you Are Not," I Said. "i Am." She Went Over And Straightened The Cling Wrap, Corner To Corner. "do You Know How Many Times I've Brought In Devilled Eggs? This Is, Like, The Only Time I Haven't Been Sobbing And That's Only 'cause I Cried All Night. And Norman," She Said, Her Voice Rising To A Wail, "sweet Norman, Always Just Acts So Surprised To See The Eggs, And Pleased, And He Never, Once, Has Ever Acted Like He Knew What They Meant."

It's Always Been Hard To Call Myself A Writer. I Think A Part Of Me Still Thinks It's Too Good To Be True.

He Always Did The Leaving. But Not This Time. She Kept Walking, And Did Not Look Back.

He Wasn't What I'd Thought He Was; Maybe He Never Had Been. I Wasn't What I'd Thought I Was, Either.

Once I Turned Eighteen, I Could Cut Myself Off From Everyone And Finally Get What I Wanted, Which Was To Be On My Own, Once And For All. ~ruby, Pg 38