Dear D-dawg,

This week has been full of solemnity. I’m usually upbeat, but girl, sometimes life hands me lemons with no ade. Now what do I do with these? Do I slice them up and deal with one small piece at a time, or just squeeze out all the sour juice at once and get it over with?

You don’t have to answer me, D-dawg; I know you can’t anyway. It’s easier to share joy than pain, but I suppose if we didn’t go through pain sometimes we wouldn’t appreciate life’s joys.

My biological father called me today, and his voice sounded like the empty space that he’s left in my life. We hadn’t spoken in a year. I don’t feel sorry for myself, and I don’t expect you to pity me either. Since he left I’ve grown used to boyfriends breaking their promises to stay. The pattern is familiar to me now.

My heart feels heavy. “I’M SO HEAVY, HEAVY, HEAVY IN YOUR ARMS.” Sing it, Florence Welch! I’m going to squeeze these lemons into my sweet tea and tonight, there will be tears and tissues and Nutella and a heart that holds a promise. I’m strong like that. Always am. Always will be. ♦