Maybe we spend most of our decades being someone else, avoiding ourselves, maybe a man is only himself, his true self, for a few days in his entire life.

There is a sense in which I am pretty sure this makes no sense. I don't know where this is going. I don't know how it ends.

Life is, to some extent, an extended dialogue with your future self about how exactly you are going to let yourself down over the coming years.

Desire is suffering. A simple equation, and a nice catchphrase. But flipped around, it is more troubling: suffering is desire.

Whatever the reason, first place was always Solo, always, always, always, and second place was usually Chewbacca, because if you weren't the one saving the galaxy, you might as well be eight feet tall and covered with hair.

For the past several years, I have gone to sleep every night in this same little pocket, the most uneventful piece of time I could find. Same exact thing every night, night after night. Total silence. Absolutely nothing. That's why I chose it. I know for a fact nothing bad can happen to me in here.

How do you convince someone to change, to stop being afraid of himself? How do you convince yourself not to be so scared all the time?