For A Moment, She Was Quiet. Then

It Was Not Enough To Be The Last Guy She Kissed. I Wanted To Be The Last One She Loved.

She Never Liked Me Much, But She Sure Loved Me

Half-drunk On Well-creamed Gas Station Coffee And The Exhilarating Loneliness Of A Freeway In Nighttime.

You Matter As Much As The Things That Matter To You. And I Got So Backwards Trying To Matter To Him. All This Time, There Were Real Things To Care About: Real, Good People Who Care About Me, And This Place. It's So Easy To Get Stuck. You Just Get Caught In Being Something, Being Special Or Cool Or Whatever, To The Point Where You Don't Even Know Why You Need It; You Just Think You Do.

I Think Inspiration Is Always Around; It's Just A Question Of Whether Or Not You're Noticing It.