Becoming Fearless Isn't The Point. That's Impossible.

I Should Probably Be Afraid. But Instead A Hysterical Laugh Bubbles Inside Me, Because I Just Remembered Something: Maybe I Can’t Hold A Gun. But I Have A Knife In My Back Pocket.

If You See Someone In Trouble, You Should Help Them. Experiment Or Not.

A Breeze Blows Through The Alley, Pushing Me To One Side, And I Think Of Scaling The Ferris Wheel With Tobias. He Kept Me Steady Then. There Is No One Left To Keep Me Steady Now.

This Concept Could Easily Have Gone Awry. Stories About Love Tend To Go That Way Sometimes. They Wander Into The Realm Of Cheese And Never Return, Which I Think Is A Shame, Because There Is A Way To Write About Romantic Love Without Breaking Out The Velveeta.

I’d Rather Eat Out Of A Can Than Be Strangled By A Faction.