We're all important. All of us. Even if we're not princesses at heart.
I have this theory that in a good marriage, conflict shows up when you forget you know who this other person is.
I desperately want to write but you're going to have to put up with this mélange of nonsense instead.
Memories can be a choice, sometimes.
I've written myself through loneliness, depression, anxiety, anger, fear, frustration for my entire life.
My dad's a really smart person. I am, too. I still never bought my spouse a surprise dishwasher for Christmas.
It's friction. Maybe not friction that matters, but friction nonetheless.