Holy shit, this post. It's finally published.
I feel the grueling painful peeling off of the bitch lens through which I've been viewing her.
My flank felt like an elephant was tap dancing on a hot railroad spike driven into my kidney.
I’ve only truly regretted the times when I stayed in my comfort zone, or ran back to it, when I knew damn well I was being called to greater things.
All of your quirks, broken dreams, character flaws and blemishes create a unique mosaic that is absolutely, authentically YOU.
"Jesus! What the Smith & Wesson hell is wrong with you?," I ask myself.
It's The Fallout, after all: the single biggest reason people . . . remain in a miserable relationship. . .