Anger Has A Way Of Returning.

We All Have A Blind Spot And It's Shaped Exactly Like Us.

So The Kind Of Boy I Was, Or That I Was Told To Be, You Were Kind Of This Like Half-gladiator, Half-dude Who, You Know, Was Supposed To Have As Many Girls As Possible And Work Until Your Heart Exploded, Have No Fear, You Know.

The Half-life Of Love Is Forever.

Here At Last Is Her Smile: Burn It Into Your Memory; You Won't See It Often.

Genre Might Certainly Increase Some Of Your Narrative Freedoms, But It Also Diminishes Others. That's The Nature Of Genre.