Everyone Seems To Want More Form Me.

Jericho Lay Back Down On His Side, Watching Her Breathe Just An Arm's Length From Him. She Was Not Beautiful While She Slept; Her Mouth Hung Open And She Snored Very Lightly, And This, Despite Everything That Had Happened, Made Him Smile.

Reminds Us That Greatness Lies Even In The Smallest Of Moments, In The Humblest Of Hearts, And We Shall, Each Of Us, Be Called To Greatness. Whether We Shall Rise To Meet It Or Let It Slip Away Is The Challenge Put Before Us All.

The Vicar, Whose Name Is Reverend Waite, Leads Us In Prayers That All Begin With 'o Lord' And End With Our Somehow Not Being Worthy-sinners Who Have Always Been Sinners And Will Forever More Be Sinners Until We Die. It Isn't The Most Optimistic Outlook I've Ever Heard But We're Encouraged To Keep Trying Anyway.

No One Asks How Or What I Am Doing. They Could Not Care Less. We’re All Looking Glasses, We Girls, Existing Only To Reflect Their Images Back To Them As They’d Like To Be Seen. Hollow Vessels Of Girls To Be Rinsed Of Our Own Ambitions, Wants, And Opinions, Just Waiting To Be Filled With The Cool, Tepid Water Of Gracious Compliance. A Fissure Forms In The Vessel. I’m Cracking Open.

Yes, Go On. Leave. You're Always Coming And Going. The Rest Of Us Are Stuck Here. Do You Think He'd Still Love You If He Knew Who You Are? He Doesn't Really Care—only When It Suits Him.