I Was Too Weak To Walk. At

Sometimes We Have Thoughts That Even We Don’t Understand. Thoughts That Aren’t Even True—that Aren’t Really How We Feel—but They’re Running Through Our Heads Anyway Because They’re Interesting To Think About. If You Could Hear Other People’s Thoughts, You’d Overhear Things That Are True As Well As Things That Are Completely Random. And You Wouldn’t Know One From The Other. It’d Drive You Insane. What’s True? What’s Not? A Million Ideas, But What Do They Mean?

No One Knows For Certain How Much Impact They Have On The Lives Of Other People. Oftentimes, We Have No Clue. Yet We Push It Just The Same.

That’s What I Love About Poetry. The More Abstract, The Better. The Stuff Were Your Not Sure What The Poets Talking About. You May Have An Idea, But You Cant Be Sure. Not A Hundred Percent. Each Word, Specifically Chosen, Could Have A Million Different Meanings. Is It A Stand-in ―a Symbol For Another Idea? Does It Fit Into A Larger, More Hidden, Metaphor? ...i Hated Poetry Until Someone Showed Me How To Appreciate It. He Told Me To See Poetry As A Puzzle. Its Up To The Reader To Decipher The Code, Or The Words, Based On Everything They Know About Life And Emotions.

Josh Turns To Me. “i Can’t Believe She’s Writing These Things.” “not She,” I Say. “me.” “why Would Anyone Say This Stuff About Themselves On The Internet? It’s Crazy!” “exactly,” I Say. “i’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.

Here's A Tip. If You Touch A Girl, Even As Joke, And She Pushes You Off, Leave... Her... Alone. Don't Touch Her. Anywhere! Just Stop. Your Touch Does Nothing But Sicken Her.