I May Have Ruined My Life, But

Well, Let Me Tell You Something, Caveman. You Are Here On Account Of One Person. If It Wasn't For That Person, You Wouldn't Be Here Digging Holes In The Hot Sun. You Know Who That Person Is?" "my No-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather.

If Only, If Only," The Woodpecker Sighs, "the Bark On The Tree Was As Soft As The Skies." While The Wolf Waits Below, Hungry And Lonely, Crying To The Moo-oo-oon, "if Only, If Only.

What Amazes Me Is That Most Days Feel Useless. I Don't Seem To Accomplish Anything-just A Few Pages, Most Of Which Don't Seem Very Good. Yet, When I Put All Those Wasted Days Together, I Somehow End Up With A Book Of Which I'm Very Proud.

But Don't Forget Who You Really Are. And I'm Not Talking About Your So-called Real Name. All Names Are Made Up By Someone Else, Even The One Your Parents Gave You. You Know Who You Really Are. When You're Alone At Night, Looking Up At The Stars, Or Maybe Lying In Your Bed In Total Darkness, You Know That Nameless Person Inside You...your Muscles Will Toughen. So Will Your Heart And Soul. That's Necessary For Survival. But Don't Lose Touch With That Person Deep Inside You, Or Else You Won't Really Have Survived At All.

It's – I Write The Books And Let The Market Find Who Reads It. I Guess A Young Adult Is Anywhere From Ten To Fifteen.