A Year, Already?

Grief is like remembering a bittersweet, terrifying nightmare.

Checking out at Target about a month ago, I noticed two girls at the next register. One of them had visible veining in her face, which reminded me of Danielle, making me cry on the spot.

The girls were about 8-9 years old; the same age Danielle and I were when my family moved into the townhouse across the street from hers.

The age when we became BFF's.

She had this blue roadmap of veining that showed through the skin of her eyelids and her cheeks, and I remember being completely fascinated at the sight.

It was such a strong contrast; all of her strength on the inside, yet she appeared absolutely vulnerable with nearly translucent skin.

Thanks, Putin

I've been wondering all this time what will replace the sarcastic, sardonic "Thanks, Obama" whenever something doesn't go my way, like breaking a nail, or tripping over a rug.

"Thanks, Putin" is just depressing. I'll be thanking him for all of the truly fucked up policies this fat cat administration will be wheeling and dealing.