I Write About True-life Type Things.

The Death Of A Friendship Was Usually Slow And Insidious, Like The Wearing Away Of A Hillside After Years Of Too Much Rain. A Handful Of Misunderstandings, A Season Of Miscommunication, The Passing Of Time, And Where Once Stood Two Women With A Dozen Years Of Memories And Tears And Conversation And Laughter—where Once Stood Two Women Closer Than Sisters—now Stood Two Strangers.

The Next Time That Boy Pursues You, He Better Do It Like A Dying Man Looking For Water In A Desert. When It's The Right Guy, You'll Know, Because He'll Cherish You.

I Tell Of Hearts And Souls And Dances... Butterflies And Second Chances; Desperate Ones And Dreamers Bound, Seeking Life From Barren Ground, Who Suffer On In Earthly Fate The Bitter Pain Of Agony Hate, Might But They Stop And Here Forgive Would Break The Bonds To Breathe And Live And Find That God In Goodness Brings A Chance For Change, The Hope Of Wings To Rest In Him, And Self To Die And So Become A Butterfly.

Never Be Passive. Victories Happen When You Take Charge Of A Game. You Can't Win By Playing Not To Lose".

My Characters Are Not Plastic.