
The untold story will wreck havoc on a family so in denial. Where to even begin. Is it a book that is written in annomity or by fact?
Kind of reminds me of the book, The Help. You know the characters but you have to surmise and wonder.
That’s where I am. Where to begin. I have bits and pieces all around me in notes, actual chapters of how and what went down but putting them all together and tying it together, is yet another thing.
We can all write a book probably and I sometimes think why would I want to add another to the shelves that are way more popular and exquisite than mine would be. Still, I have an untold story that just may bring hope to another. Or at least add to some juicy gossip.
Who knows what will transpire but if it is meant to be, it will.

Once again my heart feels broken. Why, oh why do I let myself care and feel for others to know that this again will happen? I expect way too much for someone else to care for me as much as I care for them.

You take one day at a time When that is too much, you take an hour at time, sometimes minutes.