Being a whole person means that I will be forced to make some hard sacrifices that I've so far been unable to fully come to terms with. I talked myself out of six hours of driving this weekend to tell a certain someone that I wouldn't be going to her wedding, but it's a conversation that needs to happen eventually. I may just write her a letter via snail mail and be done with. I've also got a Pandora's Box that needs to be thrown in the river before temptation tricks a curious soul to open it up. Riddle and rhyme, key weapons in my arsenal in the battle against sensibly painful adult behavior. Sometimes honesty sounds awful when put into word, sometimes it hurts more than sticking to those little white safe words that were agreed upon by the passage of time.