Quiet And Incredible. I Really Envy That.

She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth: If You Truly Remembered How Awful It Got, You'd Never Do It Again.

Life Is An Awful, Ugly Place To Not Have A Best Friend.

I'd Seen Another Shade Of Him, And If It Had Been Light Where We Were Now, He'd Have Seen The Same Of Me. So I Was Grateful, As I Had Been So Often In My Life, For The Dark.

That Was The Thing: Once, The Difference Between Light And Dark Had Been Basic. One Was Good, One Bad. Suddenly, Though, Things Weren’t So Clear. The Dark Was Still A Mystery, Something Hidden, Something To Be Scared Of, But I’d Come To Fear The Light, Too. It Was Where Everything Was Revealed, Or Seemed To Be. Eyes Closed, I Saw Only The Blackness, Reminding Me Of This One Thing, The Most Deep Of My Secrets; Eyes Open, There Was Only The World That Didn’t Know It, Bright, Inescapable, And Somehow, Still There.

I Love Ya, And It's Been A Really Good Fit For Me. But At Some Point, I Would Like To Try Something Else: A Collection Of Short Stories, Or Writing About Something Other Than High School. A Lot Has Happened To Me Since I Was Eighteen.