I Could See My Face, Crying, In

...for Reading, Once Begun, Quickly Becomes Home And Circle And Court And Family, And Indeed, Without Narrative, I Felt Exiled From My Own Country. By The Transport Of Books, That Which Is Most Foreign Becomes One's Familiar Walks And Avenues; While That Which Is Most Familiar Is Removed To Delightful Strangeness; And Unmoving, One Travels Infinite Causeways, Immobile And Thus Unfettered.

I Do Not Know What I Regret. I Sit With My Pen, And Cannot Find An End To That Sentence.

Certain Elements Of Teen Life That, 10 Years Ago, Were Very Important To Me Still, Are Becoming Less So As I Get Older. I Mean, Ive Kinda Gotten Over, I Guess Im Saying, The Fact That I Had Trouble Getting A Date For The Prom.

You Made Her Apologize For Sickness. For Her Courage. You Made Her Feel Sorry For Dying.

Image Of A Girl Holding A Blaster To A Twin’s Temple. “remember, Bi***. You Can’t Spell ‘danger’ Without Dna.” Blam.