It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.

If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.

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.

Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.

Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.