I Wasn't Sure I Could Make It

I Had Been Right: Freedom Smelled Like Ozone And Thunderstorms And Gunpowder All At Once, Like Snow And Bonfires And Cut Grass, It Tasted Like Seawater And Oranges.

I Wanted To Tell Her That Being Loved Is A Talent Too, That It Takes As Much Guts And As Much Work As Loving; That Some People, For Whatever Reason, Never Learn The Knack

People Need A Moral Code, To Help Them Make Decisions. All This Bio-yogurt Virtue And Financial Self-righteousness Are Just Filling The Gap In The Market. But The Problem Is That It's All Backwards. It's Not That You Do The Right Thing And Hope It Pays Off; The Morally Right Thing Is By Definition The Thing That Gives The Biggest Payoff.

This Is The One Thing I Hope: That She Never Stopped. I Hope When Her Body Couldn't Run Any Farther She Left It Behind Like Everything Else That Tried To Hold Her Down, She Floored The Pedal And She Went Like Wildfire, Streamed Down Night Freeways With Both Hands Off The Wheel And Her Head Back Screaming To The Sky Like A Lynx, White Lines And Green Lights Whipping Away Into The Dark, Her Tires Inches Off The Ground And Freedom Crashing Up Her Spine.

Our Entire Society Is Based On Discontent. People Wanting More And More And More. Being Constantly Dissatisfied With Their Homes, Their Bodies, Their Décor, Their Clothes, Everything – Taking It For Granted That That’s The Whole Point Of Life. Never To Be Satisfied. If You Are Perfectly Happy With What You Got, Especially If What You Got Isn’t Even All The Spectacular Then You’re Dangerous. You’re Breaking All The Rules. You’re Undermining The Sacred Economy. You’re Challenging Every Assumption That Society Is Built On.