So Much Of Courtship Is The Unspoken.

Prayers Are Answered In One Of Four Ways,” She Said. “yes. No. I Have Something Else In Mind. And . . .” She Paused Long Enough For My Impatience To Show. “and What’s The Fourth Answer?” “wait,” She Said.

I Thought Marcus Was Going To Be In My Life Forever. Then I Thought I Was Wrong. Now He’s Back. But This Time I Know What’s Certain: Marcus Will Be Gone Again, And Back Again And Again And Again Because Nothing Is Permanent. Especially People. Strangers Become Friends. Friends Become Lovers. Lovers Become Strangers. Strangers Become Friends Once More, And Over And Over. Tomorrow, Next Week, Fifty Years From Now, I Know I’ll Get Another One-word Postcard From Marcus, Because This One Doesn’t Have A Period Signifying The End Of The Sentence. Or The End Of Anything At All.

What Are Your Thoughts?' 'my Thoughts?' I Replied, Before I Even Realized What I Was Saying. 'my Thoughts Created My World.' Mac Sat Up In His Seat. He Scrunched His Curls With His Hands, Perplexed. 'who Said That?' I Told Him The Truth. 'oh, Just Someone I Used To Know,' I Said, Stroking The Naked Skin On My Middle Finger.

As Much As I Don't Care About Those Things, I Think It's Human Nature To Not Want To Feel Totally Insignificant.

What I Envy Most About You And Everyone Else Heading Back To School Is The Certainty Of It All. You’ve Got A Prescribed Set Of Requirements To Guide You Through The Next Few Years. Focus Your Energy On The Completion Of Those Assignments And You’ll Succeed. Guaranteed. Where’s My Syllabus To Guide Me Through Life?