There Is Never A Time Or Place

I Wondered Which Was Harder, In The End. The Act Of Telling, Or Who You Told It To. Or Maybe If, When You Finally Got It Out, The Story Was Really All That Mattered.

If Something Doesn't Work Exactly Right, Or Maybe Needs Some Special Treatment, You Don't Just Throw It Away. Everything Can't Be Fully Operational All The Time. Sometimes, We Need To Have The Patience To Give Something The Little Nudge It Needs.

You Didn't Have To Take A Punch For Me, You Know,' He Said. 'i'm A Lover, Not A Fighter.' 'you're A Freak Is What You Are,' I Said. He Stuck Out His Hand. 'come On, Slugger. Walk With Me. You Know You Want To.' And The Thing Was, Despite Everything I Knew-that It Was A Mistake, That He Was Different From The Others-i Did. How He Knew That, I Had No Idea. But I Got Up And Did It Anyway.

Call It Crazy, Or Just Chicken Salad.

Some Things Are Meant To Be Broken. Imperfect. Chaotic.