She sits before me, sullen but hopeful, characterless, about to dissolve into tears. I squeeze her hand back, moved, no, touched by her ignorance of evil. She has one more test to pass. Do you own a briefcase?” I ask her, swallowing.

I feel like I'm not smart enough to answer the questions I'm asked.

What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.

Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is a crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.

I have no problems or issues with screenwriting in general.

I learned that you really don't have any control as a writer. Waah, waah, waah. Big deal. Unless you're the director on the movie, or putting up the money for the movie, you really don't have a lot of control. As someone who's just writing scripts, you just kind of have to shrug. I have no problems or issues with screenwriting in general. It is what it is.

After a while you learn that everything stops.