There Wasn't A Lot Of Bullshit In

Well, As My Dad Would Say, It Means She’s Out Of This Shithole.

The Damage Can Fester Under Layers Of Time And Change, And An Ignorant, Thoughtless Remark Can Easily Reopen The Wound.

Each Time I Told My Story, I Lost A Bit, The Smallest Drop Of Pain. It Was That Day That I Knew I Wanted To Tell The Story Of My Family. Because Horror On Earth Is Real And It Is Every Day. It Is Like A Flower Or Like The Sun; It Cannot Be Contained.

Now I Am In The Place I Call This Wide Wide Heaven Because It Includes All My Simplest Desires But Also The Most Humble And Grand. The Word My Grandfather Uses Is Comfort. So There Are Cakes And Pillows And Colors Galore, But Underneath This More Obvious Patchwork Quilt Are Places Like A Quiet Room Where You Can Go And Hold Someone's Hand And Not Have To Say Anything. Give No Story. Make No Claim. Where You Can Live At The Edge Of Your Skin For As Long As You Wish.

I Think That If You're Somebody Who's A Control Freak, The Process Would Make You Crazy, But I'm Kind Of A Process Freak, So I'm Excited To See What He Does With It. I Know It's Not Going To Be My Book, So Just Starting With That Knowledge Frees Me From Having To Get All Freaked Out About It.