((((((BP)))))) My father was frightening to me as a child. He didn't have control of his life and his outbursts of anger kept me tiptoeing around him all the time. My mother was over dominant in some ways too. She also used me as a confidante before I was emotionally ready to fill that role. Then there was the pedophile that lived next door...
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Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well preserved piece...but to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, worn out and defiantly shouting "Wow! What a ride!"
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