Its Not Just A Smile Of Momentary

I Skip The Introduction. If The Book Goes In The Trash, I Want It To Go Because Of My Thoughts On It, Not Because Of Some Asshole's Thoughts Who Wrote The Introduction.

Sleep Is Still Difficult I Sleep For Three Or Four Hours A Day. Usually Sometime In The Afternoon. I Walk In The Cold, Keep Myself Numb. I Cry Less, And Less." (james Frey, Pg.88)

This Moment And This Chance, They Are The Same, And They Are Mine If I Choose Them,and I Do. I Want Them. Now And As Long As I Can Have Them They Are Both Precious And Fleeting And Gone In The Blink Of An Eye, Don't Waste Them. A Moment And An Opportunity And A Life, All In The Unseen Tick Of A Clock Holding Me Nowhere. My Heart Is Beating. The Walls Are Pale And Quiet. I Am Surviving.

My Life Has Been Like All The Lives, Long And Hard And Full Of Sadness And Confusion And Horror, A Frightening, Difficult Dream Punctuated By Brief Moments Of Joy. And As Is The Case With All People's Lives, The Moments Of Joy Are Never Often Enough And Never Long Enough.

We Stare Into Each Other's Eyes And Softly Kiss Speaking And Saying More With The Movement Of Our Lips And The Tips Of Our Fingers Than Words Will Allow Us To Say. Words Can't Say This. The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Means Everything And That Is Still Not Enough. It Doesn't Communicate Even A Fraction Of The Feelings Involved. Love. The Word Is Not Enough For What It Is. Love. Love.