The liberator who destroys my property is fighting to save my spirit. The teacher who clears all possessions from my path will set me free.

The damaged love the damaged. True fact.

I have an experience with as many of my readers as possible that's really genuine. I love it when they write to me, and I'm able to send them things. I love meeting them in person, and even if it's only for a moment I love having that physical, touching interaction.

At this rate, we'll never get to the future.

Nobody's told me anything to date that I've been completely reviled by.

In all probability the Human Genome Project will, someday, find that I carry some recessive gene for optimism, because despite all my best efforts I still can't scrape together even a couple days of hopelessness. Future scientists will call it the Pollyanna Syndrome, and if forced to guess, I'd say that mine has been a way-long case history of chasing rainbows.

If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible.