Susie B. Cross

Your meltdowns never made any damn sense. They were the product of your immature squirrel brain. My mama freakouts, on the other hand, make hella sense.

When you sign up to shuttle a collection of teen males, it is difficult to anticipate the consequences of the covenant you have blindly entered.

Mild depression (more familiar to the masses than its more severe form) is like being relentlessly cold; MDD is like having extreme frostbite.