You Didn't Fail. You Just Opted Out.

You Didn't Have To Take A Punch For Me, You Know,' He Said. 'i'm A Lover, Not A Fighter.' 'you're A Freak Is What You Are,' I Said.

All The Bitchy Girls In The World Are Just A Training Ground For What Men Can Do To You.

So What Do You Wear To Dump Somebody?" She Asked Me, Twirling A Lock Of Hair Around One Finger. "black, For Mourning? Or Something Cheerful And Colorful, To Distract Them From Their Pain? Or Maybe You Wear Some Sort Of Camouflage, Something That Will Help You Disappear Quickly In Case They Don't Take It Well.

For Two Hours I'd Felt Myself Stretching Tighter And Tighter, Like A Rubber Band Pulled To The Point Of Snapping. And Now, I Could Feel The Smaller, Weaker Part Of Myself Beginning To Fray, Tiny Bits Giving Way Before The Big Break.

But Accepting Help Doesn‟t Have To Mean Giving Up Control.