Maybe it’s just me. I stand alone, a mere island in the sea of complication. That is, the It’s Complicated Sea. Since childhood, people threw that phrase at me like one hurls candy at trick-o-treaters on Halloween. (I can’t be the only one who does that, right?) And thirty-one years into my life, I still haven’t figure out what exactly is complicated. Where do babies come from? It’s complicated. What happens when you die? It’s complicated. Why can’t I get this really expensive-but-ultra-cool toy? It’s complicated. Why are we just friends? It’s complicated. Why do you stay if you know he’s just going to hurt you again? It’s….complicated. The only complicated aspect of those situations is the word complicated. How can something so simply…