It's Like The Human Race Has Been

I Was Writing Very Early, Like I Was Involved In Our High School Literary Magazine, Which Was Called 'pariah.' The Football Team Was The Bears, And The Literary Magazine Was 'pariah.' It Was Great. It Was Definitely A Real Sub-culture. But I Wrote Stories For Them.

Apparently Even The Most Awful Tragedies, And The People They'd Ruined, Got A Little Stale After A While.

After All, What Was Adult Life But One Moment Of Weakness Piled On Top Of Another? Most People Just Fell In Line Like Obedient Little Children, Doing Exactly What Society Expected Of Them At Any Given Moment, All The While Pretending That They’d Actually Made Some Sort Of Choice.

She Told Her Therapist It Reminded Her Of Coming Home The Summer After Her Freshman Year At Rutgers, Stepping Back Into The Warm Bath Of Family And Friends, Loving It For A Week Or Two, And Then Feeling Trapped, Dying To Return To School, Missing Her Roommates And Her Cute New Boyfriend, The Classes And The Parties And The Giggly Talks Before Bed, Understanding For The First Time That That Was Her Real Life Now, That This, Despite Everything She'd Ever Loved About It, Was Finished For Good.

When Things Don't Go Well, It Helps To Think Of Yourself As A Genius And The Rest Of The World As A Bunch Of Idiots.