What is imagination when the mind is stung by toxic thought?
A stark contrast to this time last year.
Sweet distractions tame Sunday’s whipping thoughts.
Watching a friend move through the mud.
I do: two small words sealed her fate in more ways than one.
Forces are pulling us in every direction and drowning out our own needs.
You shouldn’t assume you have a hold on this.
Another night of broken slumber leaves them in the dark.
A beautiful overhearing of two young sisters.