I started smoking pot (and cigarettes and drinking and trying other drugs) when I was 12.
I grew up without an enduring male role model.
Years ago someone asked me, What makes you, you?
My childhood memories of Thanksgiving seem to be shrouded and stored in some faraway locker in my mind.
I love to journal, but time isn’t always available.
According to my pill box, it’s Wednesday. I hit snooze.
Life is very good…