When We Don't Get The Results We

My Mind, I Know, I Can Prove, Hovers On Hummingbird Wings. It Hovers And It Churns. And When It's Operating At Full Thrust, The Churning Does Not Stop. The Machines Do Not Rest, The Systems Rarely Cool. And While I Can Forget Anything Of Any Importance--this Is Why People Tell Me Secrets--my Mind Has An Uncanny Knack For Organization When It Comes To Pain. Nothing Tormenting Is Ever Lost, Never Even Diminished In Color Or Intensity Or Quality Of Sound.

At That Moment I Was Sure. That I Belonged In My Skin. That My Organs Were Mine And My Eyes Were Mine And My Ears, Which Could Only Hear The Silence Of This Night And My Faint Breathing, Were Mine, And I Loved Them And What They Could Do.

Every Part Of My Body Felt Electric. My Chest Ached And My Head Throbbed With The Great Terrible Limitless Possibility Of The Morning, And When It Came, The Sky Was Washed White, Everything Was New, And I Hadn't Slept At All.

Recently, I've Discovered Radiohead And Find Them To Be Quite Good. So Clearly, I'm Some Kind Of Musical Retard. (jonathan Ames, Middle-american Gothic)

She Felt Some Measure Of Relief Knowing That In The Very Least, On The Open Road She Would Have Some Time To Think.