Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile. My hands have been sticky since before I could speak and I am often caught with things that aren’t mine.

I’m selfish but I’m learning and I am no longer making excuses. Excuses like maybe it isn’t my fault. Like maybe generosity was in the hospital room where I was born and promised to be there for me only to be pulled away, too busy helping everyone else. And maybe gluttony was the father that stepped up and now there will always be a hungry man inside of me because of it. And while those could be true, it doesn’t mean I am not the problem. But maybe I can give myself just a bit of grace, and good lord maybe I am not as evil as I am desperate.

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write (Rose)