I'm having bigger problems when I'm writing.

***A KEY WORD*** Imagined

That's typically what writers do; we just sit around complaining most of the time. And the better things are going, the more they complain.

July 24, 6:03 A.M. The laundry was warm and the rafters were firm, and Michael Holzapfel jumped from the chair as if it were a cliff... Michael Holzapfel knew what he was doing. He killed himself for wanting to live.

And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.

I stood there and stared, into the sky and at the city around me. I stood, hands at my side, and I saw what had happened to me and who I was and the way things would always be for me. Truth. There was no more wishing, or wondering. I knew who I was, and what I would always do. I believed it, as my teeth touched and my eyes were overrun.

...they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air.