If God Wants It, It Will Happen.

Happiness In A Tablet. This Is Our World. Prozac. Daxil. Xanax. Billions Are Spent To Advertise Such Drugs. And Billions Are Spent Purchasing Them. You Don't Even Need A Specific Trauma, Just 'general Depression' Is Enough, Or Anxiety, As If Sadness Is As Treatable As The Common Cold.

You Can't Substitute Material Things For Love Or For Gentleness Or For Tenderness Or For A Sense Of Comradeship

I Hope You Never Hear Those Words. Your Mom. She Died. They Are Different Than Other Words. They Are Too Big To Fit In Your Ears. They Belong To Some Strange, Heavy, Powerful Language That Pounds Away At The Side Of Your Head, A Wrecking Ball Coming At You Again And Again, Until Finally, The Words Crack A Hole Large Enough To Fit Inside Your Brain. And In So Doing, They Split You Apart.

I Thought About All The People I Knew Who Spent Many Of Their Waking Hours Feeling Sorry For Themselves. How Useful It Would Be To Put A Daily Limit On Self-pity. Just A Few Tearful Minutes, Then On With The Day.

Being Here In Detroit, Our Public Education In This City Is - It's Shocking. And The Oversight Of It And The Oversight Of The Teachers And The Funding Is Nonexistent, And The Priority That's Put On It Is So Low.