There's Not Even Real *popularity* At My

She Had The Kind Of Eyes That Predisposed You To Supporting Her Every Endeavor.

The Pleasure Of Remembering Had Been Taken From Me, There Was No Longer Anyone To Remember With.

I'm Sorry. I Know You Loved Her. It Was Hard Not To.

I Like The Strings. I Always Have. Because That's How It Feels. But The Strings Make Pain Seem More Fatal Than It Is, I Think. We're Not As Frail As The Strings Would Make Us Believe. And I Like The Grass, Too. The Grass Got Me To You, Helped Me To Imagine You As An Actual Person. But We're Not Different Sprouts From The Same Plant. I Can't Be You. You Can't Be Me. You Can Imagine Another Well – But Never Quite Perfectly, You Know?

I Learned That Myth Doesn’t Mean A Lie; It Means A Traditional Story That Tells You Something About People And Their Worldview And What They Hold Sacred. Interesting.