Just keep asking yourself: What would Jesus not do?

So here I am. This is as good as it gets. Take it or leave it.

With my eyes closed, I ask if she knows how this will all turn out. "Long-term or short-term?" she asks. Both. "Long-term," she says, "we're all going to die. Then our bodies will rot. No surprise there. Short-term, we're going to live happily ever after." Really? "Really," she says. "So don't sweat it.

Every time I write something, I think, this is the most offensive thing I will ever write. But no. I always surprise myself.

This is less teaching than damage control. You may as well paint a house that’s on fire.

And the more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people.

Drugs or overeating or alcohol or sex, it was all just another way to find peace. To escape what we know. Our education. Our bite of the apple.