Okay well, in retrospect, the bottle of pills, the tablets of Tylenol poured out on the yellow formica kitchen table, swallowed slowly, methodically, one by one, was a little misguided. 16. So young, empty, so afraid. I wish I had words back then, that cold January day so long ago when I wanted to die.
The Power And Purpose Of Sharing Our Stories.
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Don’t Make Us Choose. A Missive To Adoptive Parents.
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