I was 6 years old. I told you I didn’t want to ride the bus. You said it wasn’t up for discussion. I begged and pleaded. I cried and pulled my hair. You were unaffected. I threw myself on the ground and vowed never to speak to you again if you made me get on that bus.
There comes a time in life when affairs, like death, become unavoidable. They become a part of the adult landscape; you just hope the bomb doesn’t go off too close to home. That the shrapnel doesn’t hit your family. This week, it landed in my inbox.… READ THE REST
I am going to tell you something I typically only share with very close friends, or drunk girls who are crying in the public restroom. This is something I know I may take some hits for, but I hope you will hear me because I ain’t wrong: If you want him to stay, you may have to leave.… READ THE REST