I Loved My Parents... But That Can

I've Always Believed That Dreams Were Both The Love Letters And The Hate Mail Of The Subconscious.

The Mind Is An Intricate Mechanism That Can Be Run On The Fuels Of Both Victory And Defeatism.

I Wrote To Explain My Own Life To Myself, Stories Are The Vessels I Use To Interpret The World To Myself.

If Smallness Was Fortune, Then I Had Come Across A Treasure, Infinitesimal And Beyond Value. I Felt Lucky. You Had To Decide What Was Estimable And Precious In Your Life And Set Out To Find It. The Objects You Valued Defined You.

Because She Deserved My Tears If Anyone On Earth Ever Did. I Could Feel The Tears Within Me, Undiscovered, And Untouched In Their Inland Sea. Those Tears Had Been With Me Always.