I Am Starting To Get Tired Of

But I Had A Feeling I Wasn't Supposed To Find Her That Way. She Was Not A Needle. This Was Not A Haystack. We Were People, And People Had Ways Of Finding Each Other.

But Death Is Not Freedom. For A Moment, It Can Look Like Freedom. But Then It's Death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

Breathing, N You Had Asthma As A Child, Had To Carry Around An Inhaler. But When You Grew Older, It Went Away. You Could Run For Miles And It Was Fine. Sometimes I Worry That This Is Happening To Me In Reverse. The Older I Get, The More I Lose My Ability To Breathe.

I Am Like The Fish In The Aquarium, Thinking In A Different Language, Adapting To A Life That’s Not My Natural Habitat. I Am The People In The Other Cars, Each With His Or Her Own Story, But Passing Too Quickly To Be Noticed Or Understood.

This Is The Trap Of Having Something To Live For: Everything Else Seems Lifeless.