When I Was A Teenager, The Number

Things Change All The Time, Mostly In Little Ways.

I Figured Being A Bed Salesman Was A Job Of Biblically Bad Paradox. I Mean, Here He Was, Forced To Stand For Eight Or Nine Hours A Day, And The Whole Time He’s Surrounded By Beds. And Not Only That, He’s Surrounded By Shoppers Who See The Beds And Can’t Help But Think, Man, I’d Love To Lie Down On That Bed For A Second. So Not Only Does He Have To Stop Himself From Lying Down, But He Has To Stop Everyone Else From Doing It, Too. I Knew If I Were Him, I Would Be Desperate For Human Company.

Wold Domination Is Exhausting And Cliche. People Ought To Just Focus On Being Individual Responsible Citizens Of The Earth Instead Of Assholes.

Why Do You Lie" I Ask Her. "to Block The Truth." Fair Enough. Naomi Goes On. "where Did We Get It In Our Heads That We Need Truth All The Time? Sometimes Lies Are Nice, You Know? You Don't Have To Know The Truth All The Time. It's Too Exhausting.

The Handwriting Was A Girl’s. I Mean, You Can Tell. That Enchanted Cursive.