What, Really, Was The Difference Between Something

People Had An Illogical, Self-serving Rationale When It Came To Interpreting The Behavior Of Others.

But Most Critically, Sweet, Never Try To Change The Narrative Structure Of Someone Else's Story, Though You Will Certainly Be Tempted To, As You Watch Those Poor Souls In School, In Life, Heading Unwittingly Down Dangerous Tangents, Fatal Digressions From Which They Will Unlikely Be Able To Emerge. Resist The Temptation. Spend Your Energies On Your Story. Reworking It. Making It Better.

It Felt As If We'd Been To War Together. Deep In A Jungle, Alone, I Had Relied On Them, These Strangers. They'd Held Me Up In Ways Only People Could. When It Was Over, An Ending Never Felt Like An Ending, Only An Exhausted Draw, We Went Our Separate Ways. Be We Were Bonded Forever By The History Of It, The Simple Fact They'd Seen The Raw Side Of Me And Me Of Them, A Side No One, Not Even Closest Friends Or Family Had Ever Seen Before, Or Probably Ever Would.

Most People Ended Up, After Only A Couple Of Months, So Far Away From Where They'd Intended To Go, Stuck In Some Barbed Underbrush Of A Quagmire When They'd Meant To Head Straight To The Ocean.

Look At Picasso. O’neill. Tennessee Williams. Capote. Were These Shiny Happy People Spreading Sunshine? No. Only The Greatest Of Personal Demons Can Force You To Do Powerful Work.