Stories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way.

Everyone loves the Dream but I kill it.

One forgets that one is one. I must try to remember this.

You got a death wish, Truant?' Which was the thing that scared me. 'Cause maybe I did.

We all create stories to protect ourselves.

The finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else.

Quick note here: if this crush-slash-swooning stuff is hard for you to stomach, if youve never had a similar experience, then you should come to grips with the fact that youve got a TV dinner for a heart and might want to consider climbing inside a microwave and turning it on high for at least an hour, which if you do consider only goes to show what kind of idiot you truly are because microwaves are way too small for anyone, let alone you, to climb into.