This Is The Problem With Forever Friends.

Nothing Was Easier To Shatter Than The Fragile Shield Of An Idealist.

Goddamn, Sometimes It Hurt To Be Free.

He Was Afraid That The Secrets She'd Kept Would Always Be Here, Inside Him, An Ugly Malignant Thing Lodged Near Enough To His Heart To Upset Its Rhythm, And Though It Could Be Removed, Cut Out, There Would Always Be Scars; Bits And Pieces Of It Would Remain In His Blood, Making It Wrong Somehow, So That If He Accidentally Sliced His Skin Open, His Blood Would--for One Heartbeat--flow As Black As India Ink Before It Remembered That It Should Be Red.

And Before You Barrel Through Some Idiotic Cosmo Girl List Of How-well-do-you-know-your-man Questions, Let Me Say That I Don't Know Squat About Him Except That He Kisses Like A God And Screws Like A Devil.

Whenever I Write About Motherhood - And I Write About It A Lot - I Am Drawing On My Experiences As A Mother And Also My Experiences As A Daughter.