I'm So Trying To Give Up Meat.

I Wanted To Hold Happiness In Reserve, Like A Bottle Of Champagne. I Postponed It Because I Was Afraid, Because I Overvalued It, And Then I Didn't Want To Use It Up, Because What Do You Wish For Then?

I'm Able To Separate Fiction And Reality. I Guess It Remains To Be Seen If Other People Are.

The Best Part Of Being A Writer For Me Is Immersing Myself In A Fictional World, Which Is The Opposite Of Being On Social Media. At The Same Time, If No One Ever Read My Work, If I Was Writing Solely For Myself, I Bet It Would Be Lonely And A Lot Less Fun.

I Had The Fleeting Thought Then That We Are Each Of Us Pathetic In One Way Or Another, And The Trick Is To Marry A Person Whose Patheticness You Can Tolerate.

And This Is How I Know That It's All Just Words, Words, Words - That Fundamentally, They Make No Difference... Our Relationship, For As Long As Things Were Good, And In That Moment When They Could Have Been Good Again, Was About The Irrelevance Of Words. You Feel What You Feel, You Act As You Act, Who In The History Of The World Has Ever Been Convinced By A Well-reasoned Argument?