I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.

Even in the world of make-believe there have to be rules. The parts have to be consistent and belong together.

...Don't feel sorry for me. I'm glad I had a second chance in life like you said to be smart because I learned a lot of things that I never knew were in this world, and I'm grateful I saw it even for a little bit.

The universe was exploding, each particle away from the next, hurtling us into dark and lonely space, eternally tearing us away from each other - child out of the womb, friend away from friend, moving from each other, each through his own pathway towards the goal-box of solitary death.

Only a short time ago, I learned that people laughed at me. Now I can see that unknowingly I joined them in laughing at myself. That hurts the most.

Punctuation, is? fun!

The only question now is: How much can I hang on to?