Sage Steadman

You know how some people develop addictions to manage their overwhelming emotions? Some people become alcoholics, coke fiends, potheads, pill-poppers, over-eaters, sex addicts or meth-heads. Well, Ann seemed to have a similar addiction to anger, he concluded. Feeling angry served the dual purpose of keeping others at a safe distance while drowning out all other competing and overwhelming emotions.

In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It__ really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don__ even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.

Nothing monumental happened, the earth didn__ shake, and lightning didn__ strike. There was just a simple moment of raw emotion, unbridled and exposed to the daylight.

He just wasn__ into flaunting his awesomeness, but sometimes a person__ awesomeness simply flaunts itself, even when you politely ask it not to.

Her sadness was like a deep well just beneath the surface of her determination.

I think it would be best if, when you__e having suicidal thoughts of stabbing yourself, that you try to think of rainbows instead.___ainbows?_ Ann said hugging a pillow.__eah,_ Lisa said, standing back to look at her wall art. __a know__appy, bright, refreshing, the calm after the storm, God__ gift to the earth.___r the aliens_ gift,_ Ann added.__ourse,_ Lisa agreed. __an__ rule that out.

He was not being courageous as he bore the freezing stream for his wife and children. He simply chose between the lesser of two evils__he pain and suffering he would endure in the river, a physical pain that he could stand to bear, or the pain and suffering he would feel if he had to watch his family wade across and freeze. It was not a decision. The choice had already been made the moment Ole proposed marriage to his wife and welcomed these beautiful daughters into the world.

The boy__ skeletal frame was now all that remained of him, and through his flesh could be seen the steady beat of his indomitable heart.

A memory of her father flitted through her consciousness. The time he played a slow, melodic tune on the saxophone in the misty rain of the yard on a summer__ night, surrounded by the patio__ twinkling lights. She remembered peering out the window and feeling like she was catching a glimpse of another world. One that was timeless and majestic. She touched his saxophone after that as if she were touching the hand of God, wishing to hold onto that feeling forever.

She took comfort in the familiarity of his smell, knowing that if she lost all her possessions and her home, at least she would have her family.

That, after all, is what the great stories are written about: How people manage to find themselves in love. Well let me just say that how a person falls in love is more important than who they fall in love with, for to truly fall in love with someone else, you must first fall in love with yourself. The process a person goes through to break down his or her outer shell and let love in is often as miraculous as the mystery of falling in love.

Jacob offered Ann pot, this time from a bowl. She shook her head no.__ou gotta keep doing it and eventually it will start to feel good, and your body will adapt,_ he encouraged. It was the same thing her mom__ yoga instructor had said to her once and her answer was the same both times.

She had walked to the brink, abandoning all belief, and just before the bitter end, she was pulled from the abyss by faith.

In retrospect, I suppose it might be difficult to develop early as a girl. Guys talking to your chest rather than your face is one thing. Then you__e also surrounded by a bunch of girls with pre- adolescent bodies who wrongly think that no breasts and no ass are a good thing. Plus, if you own your sexuality at all as a teen girl you__e a slut with a capital S. God, I__ glad those days are over. Not like adulthood is void of sexist platitudes, it__ just easier to talk about. In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It__ really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don__ even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.

They looked to each other for support, for strength, and at times, motivation, to remember why and for whom they lived.

They left their encampment with dirt-covered linen strewn about the abandoned grounds amongst clothes, shoes, children__ toys and other discarded belongings. The handcart wheels crunched over them, and the dry wheels screamed as the Willie Company started for Zion.

Some had come to look upon death as a mercy. Death meant warmth. Death was light. Life was cruel, cold, heavy and dark. Life was pain. Death was deliverance, and many would welcome it. Others doggedly clung to life and willed themselves to walk on.

They could have fought against it, begged for another way or gone off the path in hopes of finding an easier passage. Instead, they looked upon the trail ahead, the rough ridge, now bound by thick snow, and they accepted the path they had chosen.