I was starting to think I was making up memories, just to have answers. Our brain does that sometimes. Or at least mine does.

It is an awful thing to be betrayed by your body. And it’s lonely, because you feel you can’t talk about it.

Why is it so much easier to talk to a stranger? why do we feel we need to disconnect in order to connect? If I wrote "Dear Sofia" or "Dear Boomer" or "Dear Lily's Great-Aunt" at the top of this postcard, wouldn't that change the words that followed? Of course it would. But the question is: When I wrote "Dear Lily," was that just a version of "Dear Myself"? I know it was more than that. But it was also less than that, too

Neophyte, n. There are millions upon millions of people who have been through this before-- why is it that no one can give my good advice?

I don't want to fall. All I want to do is stand on solid ground.

In small letters, someone has written NEVER FORGET on one of the slats. I know it's supposed to be a pledge, but it feels like a curse. Don't we have to forget some of it? Don't we have to forget this feeling? If we don't, how will we live?

Game over," you say, and I don't know which I take more exception to-- the fact that you say its over, or the fact that you say it's a game.