I feel the grueling painful peeling off of the bitch lens through which I've been viewing her.
Psycho Jack prepares for his last stand with one last "fuck you" and makes a move in the direction of us and the cop, who calmly pulls the trigger. . .
My flank felt like an elephant was tap dancing on a hot railroad spike driven into my kidney.
I refocus and reach to lower her to the floor. I prepare to start compressions on my mom. Just before I lift her, she takes another shallow breath.
. . .he saw something within me that I didn't see within myself, and he knew he would be doing me a great disservice by letting me throw in the towel.
It is early October of 2012. I am lying alone on the floor of my bedroom for the fourth consecutive day with thoughts of suicide becoming more frequent...