the question was not simply whether I had enough, for I was long past that point, but rather how long could I continue to slam my fists against the same preconceived notions without giving in to despair...

the answer came to me one afternoon as I sat on a park bench holding a loaded .45...

maybe they were right, I couldn't change the world, but hell, I could at least give them a slap in the face...

I guess you could say I learned that lesson the hard way...

never turn your back on a dame with gun... especially if you went to the last stitch with her sister...

It's a hard thing he made me do, and if you'd ask me today I'd tell you that I regret it, but the truth is... I don't regret it, not even for a minute...

for that one night I left behind my role as a housewife, shed the skin of a mother, and danced naked in the fire of my own destruction ...

and while most girls would have said no on that night, they'd all be screaming yes inside for the rest of their lives...

I saw her once, standing there in the rain with her umbrella... she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen... a million times in my head I've talked to her, married her and grown old with her...

now, I mostly just wish it would rain, in hope that she'd be standing there again...

I never once stopped to ask myself could I get away with it... for I knew the answer was yes,...

instead my hesitation stemmed from the question of whether I could live with myself afterwards...

I remember staring at my dress lying on the floor and that's when I knew it would all be worth it...