Silence takes over and I can't think of anything to say. I mean, saying something like Hey, so you're a criminal, eh? That's cool wouldn't blow over well and nothing else comes to mind. Sighing, I eat and drink as if I'm alone, not ignoring her but not speaking.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better. — Anne Lamott