That's how a good story works. It changes how you feel. It brings you to a greater appreciation, a greater joy, of your own existence.

I'm sorry if this all seems a little rushed and desperate. It is.

We all have some proper noun to blame.

The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.

No, Miss Wright didn't want to meet her kid. To her, that relationship was just as important, just as ideal and impossible as it would be to the child. She'd expect that young man to be perfect, smart, and talented, everything to compensate for all the mistakes that she'd made. The whole wasted, unhappy mess of her life.

For official record, announce instructor, the state requires no epic hero. No strive achieve personal celebrity of spotlight and applause. Lectures instructor, the state desires best ideal perform as mediocre. No gain attention showboat. No buffoon. Best effort so occur average. Suppress climbing ego. Become ordinary. Invisible.

Disaster is a natural part of my evolution toward tragedy and dissolution.