A Pool of Tears will now be available in September. #nothing less than perfection will be acceptable for my readers

 My head ached, and my body felt like a rag doll. I needed mental and physical relief.Miles was accustomed to these shouting matches. I, on the other hand, had come from a homelife of peace.  

On the flip side of it, Miles was giving my brain a serious workout; he was so up and down I couldn’t keep up. He was toxic from the inside out, poison oozing from his pores. He continued leaving clues to his misguided behaviors, clues that I continued to dismiss. Because his actions were never met with any consequences, he was given the green light to proceed. He was someone you didn’t need or want to be affiliated with, a bad habit you couldn’t kick or scum under the bottom of your shoe.The more you walked, the more it became embedded in your sole. I allowed Miles to rant and rave as if we resided in an insane asylum. Joking, I thought, What if he really was an escaped psychopath masquerading around as an abusive lunatic?

When Life Hurts

Life is a journey.

I began to steer clear of family gatherings, parties, and functions. Going anywhere other than work and the supermarket had become a task. I didn’t want to be seen or have anyone get a clear eye view of the weight I had gained. My energy level was low, and maintaining conversation for long periods was draining. When the doorbell rang, I crept to the peephole— floor creaking, TV on mute, hoping for UPS or the mailman. I had no desire to visit or be visited. I hid behind the walls of my home, becoming increasing more comfortable being alone.

Love is a verb.