Escaping or adventuring? 

I don´t know what hurt my grandmother more in terms of my father´s abusing of us... his constant cruelty or how she prayed for him. 

Sometimes, I just fade out. 

Sometimes, the sangria hits too hard. 

My drummer dreams continue to die. 

My drummer dreams died that day.

A fun, rebellious swim turns into a psychoanalysis of my comedy style. 

Sometimes, my inner child feels like she will scream if she does not sing. 

Some arguments are like ping pong. You ping one point, and they pong theirs right back. 

For someone that claims to be a people pleaser, I sure have a lot of people unpleased with me.