He's Not My Step Brother Technically, So

Tal Told Me He Loved Me, And Told Me And Told Me, But You Don't Tell Someone That And Then Tell Them They're Not Experienced Enough In Bed And Should Read A Book Or Something To Learn, Or They Should Try Wearing Deep-red Lipstick And Tight Skirts To Look Hot Like Their Best Friend Once In A While. If Tal Hadn't Lied To Me When He Said He Loved Me, I Might Not Be Without A Future Right Now, A Sucker Who Was So Chickenshit She Allowed Herself To Believe A False Dream From A False God. I'm Not Sure I Ever Even Liked Tal, Much Less Loved Him.

Prayer Or Not, I Want To Believe That, Despite All Evidence To The Contrary, It Is Possible For Anyone To Find That One Special Person. That Person To Spend Christmas With Or Grow Old With Or Just To Take A Nice Silly Walk In Central Park With. Somebody Who Wouldn't Judge Another For The Prepositions They Dangle, Or Their Run-on Sentences, And Who In Turn Wouldn't Be Judged For The Snobbery Of Their Language Etymology Inclinations.

Usually My Characters, Though Young, Tend To Be Street-wise.

It Broke The Spell. It's Not That I Stopped Being Happy. I Was Still Inexplicably, Utterly Happy. But Suddenly The Happiness Had Implications.

It's Bullshit To Think Of Friendship And Romance As Being Different. They're Not. They're Just Variations Of The Same Love. Variations Of The Same Desire To Be Close.