I Felt Like I Was Missing Something.

I Preferred To Hang Out With The Dead, Dying, Or Desperate Books - Used We Call Them, In A Way That We'd Never Call A Person, Unless We Meant It Cruelly

In Sliding Doors, The Whole Idea Is That Every Choice You Make, And Every Single Thing That Happens To You Changes The Trajectory Of Your Life, And Once You Are Put On That Trajectory, There Is No Way Back. But Groundhog Day - Which, I Tell Him, Also Happens To Be A Much Better Movie - Says The Opposite. It Says If You Mess Up Or Make The Wrong Choice, You Just Have To Keep At It Until You Do It Right.

That's What It Felt Like - That If I Let A Little Of The Hurt Out, It Would Keep Pouring Out Until I Was A Deflated Balloon Of A Person, With A Big Monster Of Hurt In Front Of Me.

But Death Is Not Freedom. For A Moment, It Can Look Like Freedom. But Then It's Death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

Apparel, N.: There Are Times I Don’t Mind Doing The Laundry, Because Folding Your Clothes Reminds Me Of The Shape Of You.