Anything, Anything Is Possible, If You Can

That's The Way I Feel, At Least: Like There's A Real Me And A Reflection Of Me, And I Have No Way Of Telling Which Is Which.

My Stomach Gets That Hollowed-out Feeling. It's Amazing How Words Can Do That, Just Shred Your Insides Apart.

Fridays Are The Hardest In Some Ways: You’re So Close To Freedom.

Don't Worry About What You're Writing Or Whether It's Good Or Even Whether It Makes Sense.

It's Going To Be Okay. Words That Mean Nothing. Really, Just Sounds Intoned Into Vastness And Darkness, Little Scrabbling Attempts To Latch On To Something When We're Falling.