You Need The Noise Of Your Friends

I Do Not Know What I Regret. I Sit With My Pen, And Cannot Find An End To That Sentence.

You Made Her Apologize For Sickness. For Her Courage. You Made Her Feel Sorry For Dying.

There Are Times When Friendship Feels Like Running Down A Hill Together As Fast As You Can, Jumping Over Things, Spinning Around, And You Don't Care Where You're Going, And You Don't Care Where You've Come From, Because All That Matters Is Speed, And The Hands Holding Your Hands.

I Don't Know When They First Had Feeds. Like Maybe, Fifty Or A Hundred Years Ago. Before That, They Had To Use Their Hands And Their Eyes. Computers Were All Outside The Body. They Carried Them Around Outside Of Them, In Their Hands, Like If You Carried Your Lungs In A Briefcase And Opened It To Breathe.

I Eat Broccoli. I Think About The Plot. I Pace In Circles For Hours, Counter-clockwise, Listening To Music. I Try To Think Of One Detail In The Scene I'm About To Write That I'm Really Excited About Writing. Until I Can Come Up With That One Detail, I Pace.