With Friends Like These

Before we left, I knew that I had to hug her. You should know, I’m not a hugger. However, it felt felt like the only appropriate way I could show how I felt. My best friend and her family had thrown my daughter an impromptu birthday party. Maybe it was the fact that I’d casually

Maybe

  Maybe I’m the one that’s invariably broken. Jagged, rough, unfinished, in need of being discarded. I know I light some bridges on fire, the shadow of those flames dancing as I watch the spectacle. But maybe, maybe, I soak them in kerosene first.   Maybe the shades of grey, the fragmented way I view the
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