I Think There's Something Spiritual In A

Well,i Have A Theory That Men Don't Actually Cry Less Than Women,they Just Do It Differently. Since We Never Saw Our Fathers Cry,we Are Forced To Invent Our Own Unique Method.

I Moved His Hair Out Of His Face. I Put My Hand Under His Nose And Felt Gentle, Even Breaths. I Pressed My Lips Against His Ear And Whispered Again, It’s Not Your Fault. Perhaps This Was Really The Only Thing I Had Ever Wanted To Say To Anyone, And Be Told.

In My Paranoid World Every Storekeeper Thinks I’m Stealing, Every Man Thinks I’m A Prostitute Or A Lesbian, Every Woman Thinks I’m A Lesbian Or Arrogant, And Every Child And Animal Sees The Real Me And It Is Evil.

It Was An Act Of Devotion. A Little Like Writing Or Loving Someone — It Doesn’t Always Feel Worthwhile, But Not Giving Up Somehow Creates Unexpected Meaning Over Time.

I'm Always The Kind Of Friend Or Girlfriend Who Suggests, When There's Some Cataclysmic Problem In The Relationship, I'm Like, "well, Maybe We Can Come Up With A Creative Activity That Will Help Us Out." I'm Like, "let's Get Out The Pens! Draw A Picture Of How Much You Hate Me!"