Sometimes a perfect memory can be ruined if put to words.

There’s something ugly about a pretty boy who knows he’s pretty and assumes everyone else know it too.

Some of us had been running all our lives. We ran because we could and because we could not. We ran for our lives. We still thought they were worth running for.

I could tell he wanted the best for me. Of course, he assumed that would be getting out. Everyone always thought that, not of what we had to go back to, at home. Maybe our...

The story you choose to tell isn’t always the story you believe.