There Is No God, And Conversation Is

I Could Hear My Heart Beating. I Could Hear Everyone's Heart. I Could Hear The Human Noise We Sat There Making, Not One Of Us Moving, Not Even When The Room Went Dark.

There Is No Answer. It's Okay. But Even If It Wasn't Okay, What Am I Supposed To Do?

Ralph Also Took Some Classes In Philosophy And Literature And Felt Himself On The Brink Of Some Kind Of Huge Discovery About Himself. But It Never Came.

I've Done As Many As 20 Or 30 Drafts Of A Story. Never Less Than 10 Or 12 Drafts.

There Is No God, And Conversation Is A Dying Art.