[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
on a day like today
sometimes you just can’t believe that you’re actually hearing what he’s saying.
sometimes it feels like a dream.
sometimes you realize that you'll never see his parents again.
sometimes you cry yourself to sleep.
sometimes you love someone so much that you lose yourself.
sometimes you try to talk, but your voice shakes so much you just have to stop.
sometimes you feel so alone it takes your breath away.
sometimes you think that it wasn't supposed to end this way.
sometimes you think that truly his heart was made of icing.
sometimes you think you can love someone enough. but you can’t. it doesn’t work that way.
sometimes you're so angry that your throat closes up and you feel dizzy.
sometimes you feel like an idiot, because you thought things had gotten better.
sometimes you wonder if other people can tell, just by looking at you, that your heart is broken into a million tiny pieces.
sometimes a song makes you cry. even though it never made you cry before.
sometimes you sit in your car in the parking lot while the song plays and you cry so hard you can’t breathe.
sometimes you think that if you could just sit in your car for the rest of the day and play that song over and over, you’d cry so long and so hard that you’d get it all out of your system, and you’d be whole again.
sometimes you know that even if you sat in your car for the rest of the day, it just wouldn't be long enough.
sometimes there just aren't enough hours hours in the day.
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]