Something’s Died In Me,” She Goes. “it

There Is No Answer. It's Okay. But Even If It Wasn't Okay, What Am I Supposed To Do?

Woke Up This Morning With A Terrific Urge To Lie In Bed All Day And Read. Fought Against It For A Minute. Then Looked Out The Window At The Rain. And Gave Over. Put Myself Entirely In The Keep Of This Rainy Morning. Would I Live My Life Over Again? Make The Same Unforgivable Mistakes? Yes, Given Half A Chance. Yes.

My Life Is Going To Change. I Feel It.

Anyone Can Express Himself Or Herself, But What Writers And Poets Want To Do In Their Work, More Than Simply Express Themselves, Is Communicate.

That's All We Have, Finally, The Words, And They Had Better Be The Right Ones.