Because, Really, What Was Worse Than Lying

To This Day, She’s Still Sad. Because There’s Not Some Finite Amount Of Pain Inside Us. Our Bodies And Minds Just Keep Manufacturing More Of It. I’m Just Saying That I Took The Pain That Was Inside Of Her At That Moment And Made It My Own. And It Didn’t Hurt Me At All.

There's Not Some Finite Amount Of Pain Inside Us. Our Bodies And Minds Just Keep Manufacturing More Of It.

I No Longer Believe That Just About Everything Is Funny, If Viewed From The Proper Angle.

A Screenwriter Heard Me Read From My Novel 'the Wishbones' When It Was Still In Progress And Mentioned Me To Some Producers In Hollywood. They Called, And I Told Them I Had A Novel In My Drawer About A High School Election That Goes Haywire. They Asked To Take A Look, And My Life Changed Pretty Dramatically As A Result.

Jill Felt An Emptiness Open Inside Of Her As She Lifted Her Arm, A Sense That Something Vital Was Being Subtracted From Her Life. It Was Always Like That When Somebody You Cared About Went Away, Even When You Knew It Was Inevitable, And It Probably Wasn't Your Fault.