Can We Really Choose Anything?' 'maybe. If

We Are Where We Are, However We Got Here. What Matters Is Where We Go Next.

I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

But I'm Not Afraid Of The Skeletons In Julie's Closet. I Look Forward To Meeting The Rest Of Them, Looking Them Hard In The Eye, Giving Them Firm, Bone-crunching Handshakes.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

I Hate That She's Hurt. I Hate That She's Been Hurt, By Me And By Others, Throughout The Entire Arc Of Her Life. I Barely Remember Pain, But When I See It In Her I Feel It In Myself, In Disproportionate Measure. It Creeps Into My Eyes, Stinging, Burning.