For The Worst Things Of Our Lives,

My Life Is Routine. I Wake Up Early In The Morning. I Brush My Teeth. I Sit On The Floor Of The Cell I Do Not Go To Breakfast. I Stare At A Gray Cement Wall. I Keep My Legs Crossed My Back Straight My Eyes Forward. I Take Deep Breaths In And Out, In And Out, And I Try Not To Move. I Sit For As Long As I Can I Sit Until Everything Hurts I Sit Until Everything Stops Hurting I Sit Until I Lose Myself In The Gray Wall I Sit Until My Mind Becomes As Blank As The Gray Wall. I Sit And I Stare And I Breathe. I Sit And I Stare. I Breathe.

I've Always Said I'm More Influenced In What I Do By Artists, And How They Work, How They Think, And The Freedom They're Given To Work And Think, Than I Really Am By Other Writers.

Words Can't Say This. The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Means Everything And That Is Still Not Enough.

I Feel Strong. Not Strong Enough To Face Myself, But Strong Enough To Keep Going.

The Feeling Of Arms Around Me, Of Love In My Heart, It Was More Powerful Than Any Of The Negativity I Knew Was Existing In The World For Me. That Feeling Of Love Killed It All.