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Over 90 days ago


What is there to say, it's all in the least I hope it is or I am doing something wrong. I've been making up stories and poems since before I could actually read.

I am: sarcastic, a little crazy (mostly in a good way), going to be 40 soon (and I don't care), silly, dark, goofy. Okay, I am a study in contradictions, it makes me more fun to talk to. I can hear all my friends saying NO it does not! I tend to be a little on the sweary side, okay a lot on the sweary side. If you don't like that, then don't look, okay? I don't censor myself for other people's pleasure. I am what I am...and that is the end of it.
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Who Do You Trust?

Who do you trust, when you don't even know if you're real?

Who do you trust when you can't tell what's real and what's not? Who is really here, who did my head make up? Is the man with the drugs and the questions real? Are the noises, the lights real or imagined, hallucinated? I know the sleep deprivation is real...

Take Care

He doesn't understand why she gets lost in her head

“Gilli, what did you do?” “I'm fine, really.” “No, sweetheart, you aren't. I can see it in your eyes. Let me see.” He gently takes her hand and cradles it in his. He hisses in empathetic pain. “Okay, not nothing, love." He gently wraps her burnt hand in a...

Rusty, the Screen Door it Slams

Navigating the storms of becoming an adult at 12 is never easy.

Rusty, the screen door it slams. “Ya’ll be careful out there, please.” Momma yells. Rusty, the screen door it slams as Momma ushers us outside. “Little pitchers.” Momma says to Daddy. Rusty, the screen door it slams as Daddy sends us outside. “Daddy doesn...