It's So Easy To Get Caught Up

But For Now, I Just Sat There On The Bed And Listened To My Song. The One That Had Been Written For Me By A Man Who Knew Me Not At All, Now Sung By The One Who Knew Me Best.

It Took A Lot Of Work To Be Perfect. If You Didn’t Want To Break A Sweat, There Was No Point In Even Bothering.

I Was Actually Pretty Miserable In High School. I Couldn't Wait For It To Be Over. And When It Finally Was, I Remember Sitting At Graduation With All These Classmates Getting Nostalgic And Emotional Already And All I Could Think Was, "get Me Out Of Here. I Never Want To See You People Again." So It's Ironic That I Spend Half My Day Putting Myself Back There By Choice [while Writing].

Are Those The Only Options? Nothing Or Forever?

Okay," I Said, "what's Your Biggest Fear?" As Always, He Took A Second To Think About The Answer. "clowns," He Said. "clowns." "yup." I Just Looked At Him. "what?" He Said, Glancing Over At Me. "that Is Not A Real Answer," I Told Him. "says Who?" "says Me. I Meant A Real Fear, Like Of Failure, Of Death, Of Regret. Like That. Something That Keeps You Awake Nights, Questioning Your Very Existence." He Thought For A Second. "clowns.