We Smile, Because This Is How We

Here We Are On The Road. We Must Be Going Somewhere.

I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

When The Entire World Is Built On Death And Horror, When Existence Is A Constant State Of Panic, It's Hard To Get Worked Up About Any One Thing. Specific Fears Have Become Irrelevant. We've Replace Them With A Smothering Blanket Far Worse.

I Hate That She's Hurt. I Hate That She's Been Hurt, By Me And By Others, Throughout The Entire Arc Of Her Life. I Barely Remember Pain, But When I See It In Her I Feel It In Myself, In Disproportionate Measure. It Creeps Into My Eyes, Stinging, Burning.

What Wonderful Thing Didn't Start Out Scary?