Catch Me On A Good Day, I

This World Can Only Give Me Reminders Of What I Don't Have, Can Never Have, Didn't Have For Long Enough.

How Many Psychiatrists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” “i Don’t Know. How Many?” “eight.” “why?” “oh, Stop Overanalyzing It.

My Daughter Squealed Again And Both Bubba And I Winced. It’s Not An Attractive Sound, That. It’s High-pitched And It Enters Your Ear Canals Like Hot Glass. No Matter How Much I Love My Daughter, I Will Never Love Her Squealing. Or Maybe I Will. Maybe I Do. Driving Down 93, I Realized Once And For All, That I Love The Things That Chafe. The Things That Fill Me With Stress So Total I Can’t Remember When A Block Of It Didn’t Rest On Top Of My Heart. I Love What, If Broken, Can’t Be Repaired. What, If Lost Can’t Be Replaced. I Love My Burdens.

I Held Her, He Wanted To Say, And If I Knew For Certain That All It Would Take To Hold Her Again Would Be To Die, Then I Couldn't Raise The Gun To My Head Fast Enough.

Happiness Doesn't Lie In Conspicuous Consumption And The Relentless Amassing Of Useless Crap. Happiness Lies In The Person Sitting Beside You And Your Ability To Talk To Them. Happiness Is Clear-headed Human Interaction And Empathy. Happiness Is Home. And Home Is Not A House-home Is A Mythological Conceit. It Is A State Of Mind. A Place Of Communion And Unconditional Love. It Is Where, When You Cross Its Threshold, You Finally Feel At Peace.