I've Been Choking To Death For Years.

Every Woman Is Just A Different Kind Of Problem.

This Would Be...a Book That Would Be A Trapdoor Down Into Some Place Dark. A Place Only You Could Go, Alone, When You Opened The Cover. Because Only Books Have That Power.

At That Moment, It Seemed The Whole World Cared What Happened To Him. All Those People Were Hugging Him And Petting His Hair. Everybody Asked If He Was Okay. It Seemed That Moment Would Last Forever. That You Had To Risk Your Life To Get Love. You Had To Get Right To The Edge Of Death To Ever Be Saved.

It's Obsequious Little Nicety-nice Girls Like Me Who Allow Assholes To Run The World: Miss Harlot O'harlots, Billionaire Phony Tree Huggers, Hypocrite Drug-snorting, Weed-puffing Peace Activists Who Fund The Mass-murdering Drug Cartels And Perpetuate Crushing Poverty In Dirt-poor Banana Republics. It's My Petty Fear Of Personal Rejection That Allows So Many True Evils To Exist. My Cowardice Enables Atrocities.

They're Just Words Is All. Powerless. Vocabulary. Dialogue.