I went to Arizona, I quit speed, I went to Florida; I gave birth. I got on the internet. I mommyed, I went to school, I got a job that I liked as much as hated; I made new friends. I took a guy I'd known since I was little as a lover; I miss him. I met my birthmother. I got married for reasons of security rather than love - he hit me - I got divorced. Between that time, I met my life partner. I had lots of coffee. Looots of coffee. I fought with my parents. I did not write for seven years after the rape. I have not stopped writing since. My daughter graduated kindergarten. I moved to Atlanta. I discovered chai. I started working at A Major University, I got on LJ, I made more friends; my life partner and I dialed back to being friends, and I made some stupid decisions thinking with my imaginary dick. I made friends, I lost friends. I have been physically defective in a few ways for a few years. I found out I have epilepsy. I proposed to my life partner. I found my Master.
I fell in love. A lot.
I hurt. A lot.
But I kept going. Fall down seven times, stand up eight.