Because It May Seem Like

I Can't. You Can't Rewrite The Past.

You Can Hear Rumors. But You Can't Know Them.

The Longer You Wait, And This Is True, The Slower The Hands Will Move.

Josh Turns To Me. “i Can’t Believe She’s Writing These Things.” “not She,” I Say. “me.” “why Would Anyone Say This Stuff About Themselves On The Internet? It’s Crazy!” “exactly,” I Say. “i’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.

Will I Ever Get Control Of My Life? Will I Always Be Shoved Back And Pushed Around By Those I Trust?