finding the missing pieces

of a childhood that was devoid of the emotional and spiritual substance and sustenance that I needed.

Fuck you if you think that's too touchy-feely and Newage-y (pronounced like 'sewage'-y). Girl's gotta grow the way she's gotta. No two ways. I'm a sunflower, and I'm a-bloomin', and you can't fucking stop me. So there. Neener neener. All obstacles will be flattened by my own personal Mack truck, or, alternatively, a sledgehammer. Doubters are not welcome here.