I Want A New Past,new Memories, A

Life Only Makes Any Sense If We Can See Time How God Does. Past, Present, And Future All At Once.

But I'm Not Afraid Of The Skeletons In Julie's Closet. I Look Forward To Meeting The Rest Of Them, Looking Them Hard In The Eye, Giving Them Firm, Bone-crunching Handshakes.

She Hugs Me. It's Tentative At First, A Little Scared, And Yes, A Little Repulsed, But Then She Melts Into It. She Rests Her Head Against My Cold Neck And Embraces Me. Unable To Believer What's Happening, I Put My Arm Around Her And Just Hold Her. I Almost Swear I Can Feel My Heart Thumping. But It Must Just Be Hers, Pressed Tightly Against My Chest.

Is This Muteness A Real Physical Handicap? One Of The Many Symptoms Of Being Dead?or Do We Just Have Nothing Left To Say?

All My Life I Have Battled The Alarm Clock, Pummeling The Snooze Button Over And Over With Mounting Self-loathing Until The Shame Is Finally Strong Enough To Lever Me Upright.