Everyone Sees Different Things.

Don't Get Me Wrong, I Love Literary Fiction. It's Faux Literary Fiction I Can't Stand.

Life Isn't Happily Ever After... It's Work. The Person You Love Is Rarely Worthy Of How Big Your Love Is. Because No One Is Worthy Of That And Maybe No One Deserves That Burden Of It, Either. You'll Be Let Down. You'll Be Disappointed And Have Your Trust Broken And Have A Lot Of Real Sucky Days. You Lose More Than You Win. You Hate The Person You Love As Much As You Love Him. But You Roll Up Your Sleeves And Work - At Everything - Because That's What Growing Older Is.

How Many Psychiatrists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” “i Don’t Know. How Many?” “eight.” “why?” “oh, Stop Overanalyzing It.

But I Often Think We Talk Way Too Much In This Society, That We Consider Verbalization A Panacea That It Very Often Is Not, And That We Turn A Blind Eye To The Sort Of Morbid Self-absorption That Becomes A Predictable By-product Of It.

I Believe In God. Maybe Not The Catholic God Or Even The Christian One Because I Have A Hard Time Seeing Any God As Elitist. I Also Have A Hard Time Believing That Anything That Created Rain Forests And Oceans And An Infinite Universe Would, In The Same Process, Create Something As Unnatural As Humanity In Its Own Image. I Believe In God, But Not As A He Or She Or An It, But As Something That Defines My Ability To Conceptualize Within The Rather Paltry Frames Of Reference I Have On Hand.