I Don't Think Writers - In General

I Think I Love Him, But I Also Think That You Can Love People Who Aren't Good For You.

I Gazed Around The Room And My Eyes Stopped Dead On A Little Boy Standing In The Corner. This Was A Particularly Eerie Doll. Life-sized And Blond-haired And Blue-eyed. I Saw A Little Nazi Boy, Pockets Probably Stuffed With Scissors And Retractable Blades. My Grandfather On My Mother's Side Was Rumored To Be Half Jewish, Which Practically Makes Me Jerry Seinfeld's Brother, And Thus Wary Of Blond German Boys With Their Hands Out Of Sight.

I Missed Him So Much That I Had Physical Sensations Of Loss, All Over My Body. Like One Minute I Was Missing An Arm, The Next My Spleen. It Was Making Me Feel Sick, Like Throwing Up.

It Was A Salad Bar Of Phobias

God, I Felt Certain, Did Not Mind That I Didn’t Press My Hands Together To Pray. I Was Casual, But I Was Sincere. I Knew That God Existed As The Correct Answer Inside My Chest.