I Think I Write What's Interesting To

I Actually Liked The Disolation Of Winter; It Was The Season When It Was Okay To Be Unhappy. If I Were To Ever Kill Myself, I Thought It Would Be In The Summer.

..and I Thought How Liking A Boy Was Just The Same As Believing You Wanted To Know A Secret - Everything Was Better When You Were Denied And Could Feel Tormented By Curiousity Or Loneliness. But The Moment Of Something Happening Was Treacherous. It Was Just So Tiring To Have To Worry About Whether Your Face Was Peeling, Or To Have To Laugh At Stories That Weren’t Funny.

There Are People We Treat Wrong And Later We're Prepared To Treat Other People Right. Perhaps This Sounds Mercenary, But I Feel Grateful For These Trial Relationships, And I Would Like To Think It All Evens Out - Surely, Unknowingly, I Have Served As Practice For Other People.

Probably I, Like A Lot Of People, Became A Writer In Imitation Of Or In Homage To The Books I Enjoyed. When You're So Captivated By Something, You Think, Could I Do That? Hmm, Let Me Try

She Was The Reason I Was A Reader, And Being A Reader Was What Had Made Me Most Myself; It Had Given Me The Gifts Of Curiosity And Sympathy, An Awareness Of The World As An Odd And Vibrant Contradictory Place, And It Had Me Unafraid Of Its Oddness And Vibrancy And Contradictions.