A Good [short Story] Would Take Me

I Just Looked At The Pattern Of My Life, Decided I Didn't Like It, And Changed.

At The End Of A Miserable Day, Instead Of Grieving My Virtual Nothing, I Can Always Look At My Loaded Wastepaper Basket And Tell Myself That If I Failed, At Least I Took A Few Trees Down With Me.

She's Afraid To Tell Me Anything Important, Knowing I'll Only Turn Around And Write About It. In My Mind, I'm Like A Friendly Junkman, Building Things From The Little Pieces Of Scrap I Find Here And There, But My Family's Started To See Things Differently. Their Personal Lives Are The So-called Pieces Of Scrap I So Casually Pick Up, And They're Sick Of It. More And More Often Their Stories Begin With The Line "you Have To Swear You'll Never Repeat This." I Always Promise, But It's Generally Understood That My Word Means Nothing.

I Hated Leaving A Hole In The Smoking World, And So I Recruited Someone To Take My Place. People Have Given Me A Lot Of Grief, But I'm Pretty Sure That After High School, This Girl Would Have Started Anyway, Especially If She Chose The Army Over Community College.

But I Have No Mind For Business And Considered Staying Awake To Be Enough Of An Accomplishment.