There Is, In The End, The Letting

I Have Not Lost My Fascination With Death. I Have Not Become A Noticeably Less Intense Person. I Have Not, Nor Will I Ever, Completely Lose The Longing For That Something, That Thing That I Believe Will Fill An Emptiness Inside Me. I Do Believe That The Emptiness Was Made Greater By The Things That I Did To Myself.

You Will Miss Her Sometimes. Bear In Mind She's Trying To Kill You. Bear In Mind You Have A Life To Live.

But New Love Only Lasts So Long, And Then You Crash Back Into The Real People You Are, And From As High As We Were, It's A Very Long Fall, And We Hit The Ground With A Thud.

When You Deal With Nonfiction You Deal With Human Characters.

The Idea Of My Future Simultaneously Thrilled And Terrified Me, Like Standing At The Lip Of A Very Sheer Cliff- I Could Fly, Or Fall. I Didn't Know How To Fly, And I Didn't Want To Fall. So I Backed Away From The Cliff And Went In Search Of Something That Had A Clear, Solid Trajectory For Me To Follow, Like Hopscotch.