We are unusual and tragic and alive.

No. There is no balance, and no retribution, and no rules. The rules and balances you blather about are hopeful creations of a man fearing death.

I have no idea how people function without near-constant internal chaos. I'd lose my mind.

I publish my own books, so there isn't a certain editor I owe the book to at a publishing house.

She needs a new journal. The one she has is problematic. To get to the present, she needs to page through the past, and when she does, she remembers things, and her new journal entries become, for the most part, reactions to the days she regrets, wants to correct, rewrite.

She pulls away, pats me on the shoulder with three mini-pats, like those used to pet reptiles.

Humans are divided between those who can still look through the eyes of youth and those who cannot.