When I Pictured Myself, It Was Always

I Wasn't Ready For This, But Then I Probably Never Would Be, And This Year, Like So Much Else, Wouldn't Wait. I Had No Choice But To Get Out Of My Car, With Everyone Watching And Begin In Earnest, Alone. So I Did

Once, I Was Easy. Now, I Was Choosy. See? Big Difference.

Who Says There Has To Be A Point?" He Asked. "or A Reason. Maybe It's Just Something You Have To Do.

He Was Looking At Me, Jsut As I'd Thought He Would Be, But Like Bert's, His Light Was Not What I Expected. No Pity, No Sadness: Nothing Had Changed. I Realized All The Times I'd Felt People Stare At Me, Their Faces Had Been Pictures, Abstracts. None Of Them Were Mirrors, Able To Reflect Back The Expression I Thought One I Wore, The Feelings Only I Felt.

I'm Just Writing What I Know. I've Never Been Much Of A Reader Of Fantasy, And I Think You Write What You, Personally, Enjoy Reading.