I had choosen the path of the black sheep rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.

Could a scar be like the rings of a tree, reopened with each emotional season?

I wanted so badly to be seen, yet my pride prevented me from obviously asking to be seen. I did not want to be seen by demand, but rather by their choosing.

Starting this day, she was no longer going to be quiet, a wallflower no more.

I’m not the damsel in distress. I’m the villain. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes this.

Jack, I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Oh Mom, you're way too old to be having a mid-life crisis.