A Lot Of Times In My Short

It Is Not Like A Premonition Of Death. It Is As If She Died A Long Time Ago, And She Just Now Remembered It.

I Guess I'm Curious About How People Process Grief And How They Process Loss. And I'm Also Interested In The Ways In Which An Event Can Have Long-reaching Consequences And A Life Over The Course Of Years.

Even When Our Death Is Imminent, We Carry The Image Of Ourselves Moving Forward, Alive, Into The Future.

When I Was Younger I Was Attracted To People Who Had That Kind Of Artifice - People Who Were Incredibly Polished And Had A Complex Persona That Always Seemed To Be Turned On. I Was Really Interested In These Kinds Of People Because I Felt So Unformed.

I Can't Understand How People Can Settle For Having Just One Life. I Remember We Were In English Class And We Were Talking About That Poem By - That One Guy. David Frost. 'two Roads Diverged In A Yellow Wood-' You Know This Poem, Right? 'two Roads Diverged In A Yellow Wood, And Sorry I Could Not Travel Both And Be One Traveler, Long I Stood And Looked Down One As Far As I Could, To Where It Bent In The Undergrowth-" "i Loved That Poem. But I Remember Thinking To Myself: Why? How Come You Can't Travel Both? That Seemed Really Unfair To Me.