“I’m not good enough.”  That one, crippling thought often plagues my mind, popping up unannounced, like weeds shooting through a patch of vivid dandelions.  This happens every time I try to write...

I gasped for air, realizing that there were two hands around my neck, clenching, pulsing. They would squeeze so tight sometimes. Sometimes they would squeeze so tightly that I realized there was no open...