I am coming through an intensely anxious period. In 2014, I had multiple surgeries culminating in a partial hysterectomy. I got to keep my ovary, but my uterus hadn’t been a team player for quite awhile. It had to go. The result was extreme hormonal confusion that sent me back to dark teen-ages. I was catapulted back into ADD and relived all my traumatic triggers, sometimes daily. During that time, an individual who had harmed me found me on Facebook and tried to reconnect. Um, no. I blocked that fool.

You tell me which is the truth and which is a lie. I may or may not confirm if you are correct. You may or may not be correct with any guess. I may or may not have put two truths and a lie into every statement. Parse at your own risk. I write under a secret name for a little known site with an assumed identity. It’s all very hush hush.  When I have a cold, I eat exclusively Chinese food. Egg drop soup? Chicken fried rice? Crab Rangoon? 

Last week was a week of travel for me. I had several wonderful guests volunteer for my Friday series which means I was guesting in their online houses. It is so exciting to have my work accepted and published by these amazing writers. Keep reading to find my pieces, stop in and comment (please please please). I already announced my latest guest spot with The Relationship Blogger. Raymond prompted me to write about my experiences with faith, ethnicity and assumption. I talked about fetishes. Read more here.  Thomas Ives of

she’s hard on him but she’s done nine years with four walls that she never wants him to know one morning after she lit into him they both skipped class when she picked him up later he said Mama let’s skip to the car like we used to An arsonist by trade, John Reinhart lives on a farmlette in Colorado with his wife and children. He is a Frequent Contributor at the Songs of Eretz, member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, and was awarded the 2016 Horror Writers Association

I was never able to skate backward, but I was an ace at taking the curves full speed in the skating rinks of my childhood. When I wasn’t coasting around the rink floors, I tried to recreate the soothing mood of the rink at home. I know what you’re thinking. Skating rinks are loud with flashing lights, ugly carpets, that old shoe smell and unstable crowds on wheels. All of that was overpowered by the hum of wheels against the wooden floor. That was part of the magic, part of

“I’ve met many men, but there are two types I meet most often: The Anthropologist and The Savior.  “The first sees me as a sensual beauty. My olive skin and big, brown eyes are exotic. My “beauty” is noted. I should model. And is it true that Lebanese women are wild in bed? The Anthropologist is often sexist. A cultural saveur. An asshole in clothing just waiting to take mine off. He wants to plummet my depths, discover me like I’m a new land, plant his flag pole in me

Do you have a THQ blog button on your site? I’d love to see you update it with one of the following buttons featuring my new porcupine logo. You know this guy’s been in the honey, but he’s surviving his story one step at a time. These are 500×500 images. To use them with WordPress, right click and save the image. Add it to an image widget with a link back to honeyquill.com or to your specific post if you have guested here. Maybe you show up to survive your

K., It is said we are all made of stardust (as if that evens the playing field) but you clearly cut yourself from your own cloth. I don’t know where I stand in relation to you, but in my mind you are walking backward up a very steep incline and I’m at the bottom with my neck craned and my eyes pierced by the sun wondering, “How does she do that in a skirt?” Life, maybe, wants to knock you down. I call bullshit. Not for the reason you’re thinking. I’ll

I have been a fan of Alexis Donkin’s work with global compassion for the last year. I started reading her memoir, Thrive: How I Became a Superhero, and knew immediately she was tribe. In fact, we connected as two writers whose goal is to sow seeds of compassion beginning with self-love. Alexis writes with intention, with respect for herself and the reader, and with incredible open-hearted love for the world. When you need a hug or to know you’re loved, stop in at her site. Seriously. Recently, Alexis launched an

I’m sorry. I was hungry I guess? I’m not sure why it happened. You were there in one ultrasound. A shadow person. A double image. The doctor says I absorbed you. Mama says that makes me twice the woman I might have been. I missed you. I always set out a cup and saucer for you at tea parties. Put a mirror in your seat so I could find you in my corner vision, know what it might have been like to not be so alone. You were my greatest

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