I Feel Strong. Not Strong Enough To

I Am Essentially Optimistic. Being Alive Is Incredible. Life Is Extraordinary And Beautiful. It Can Be Hard And Sad And Terrifying, But It's All We've Got.

There's Something, I Think, That Gets Lost When We Write Something - Something Gets Lost In The Translation. So I Speak Everything Out, And It's More Important How It Sounds. And Applying That To More Formal Aspects Of Writing.

I Look At Pastries And Cakes, Tarts And Pies. My Body Craves Sugar, Always Craves Sugar. Years Of Alcohalism And The High Level Of Sugar In Alcohal Created The Craving, Which I Feed With Candy And Soda.

Trauma Is Survivable, But Often Not Much More. It Kills You While Allowing You To Still Live.

I Don't Speak With Proper Grammar. I Don't Speak With Dialogue Attribution. I Don't Speak With Quotation. I Don't Care About Any Of That Stuff. It's About Rhythm, And It's About What's In Their [the Character's] Head, And What Feels More Natural. And It's About Speed. I Want Things To Move.