Hey you. I've been waiting for you. For you to take off your shoes and make yourself at home right here with me. Let me tell you stories. Stories I've heard, stories I have composed from the wonderful words living in my head, and stories I have yet to write and live through. Stories can be fiction, and fiction is lovely and romantic and mysterious. But there is something so real in non-fiction, in the nitty gritty of the everyday life, and the consistency of the pieces of us we give away to strangers and to non believers on a daily basis, that I find too good to pass up telling about. I find something entirely satisfying in letting you know that I am broken too. That my pieces are flailing around like uncontrollable limbs that I can't seem to tame. That I, too, am leaking and sometimes, the drops weigh more than any sadness or grief I could ever imagine. Sometimes the drops press so hard against my chest, they tend to create tiny fissures in my already fractured but still running heart. So, cheers to the fractures. Cheers to the non-fiction of the broken hearted clan. Hip hip hooray for all the pieces you have yet to break off and glue back on. XOXO.