First, put this on.

She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
And I don't know if I've ever really been loved
By a hand that's touched me, well I feel like something's gonna give
And I'm a little bit angry...

....when words explode everywhere and I practically run home. They ( Read more... )

Everything you know about the world is a lie. Everything you know about yourself is a lie. You tell yourself these lies (you call them stories) to make the world seem explicable ( Read more... )

We had poems. I remember reading poems to him, making him read me some. There was one that destroyed me, and the sound of his voice reading that poem was one of my most cherished memories. I can't remember that anymore, it's only my own voice reading the poem in my head. Self-protection, I guess ( Read more... )

Today, Rain, Honeypie, and Hector will likely be put down. Rain for sure; it's been too long, and his hind feet are not just paralysed but beginning to abcess a tiny bit. Hector is nothing but skin and bone, and he's slow and not energetic anymore. And Honeypie is puffy and slow and quiet and breathing rough, and the prospect of introducing him ( Read more... )