Even in my bravest moment, I am a coward.

The moment the light went out, everyone stopped pretending.

She is Living and I'm Dead, but I'd like to believe we're both human. Call me an idealist.

What I'm saying is, when you have weight like that in your life, you have to start looking for the bigger picture or you are gonna sink.

Enough white lies can scorch the earth black.

I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming; the scraps of beauty make it worse.

I think for a minute. Watching my wife fade into the distance, I put a hand on my heart. "Dead." I wave a hand toward my wife. "Dead." My eyes drift toward the sky and lose their focus. "Want it...to hurt. But...doesn't." Julie looks at me like she's waiting for more, and I wonder if I've expressed anything at all with my halting, mumbled soliloquy. Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting? I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.