There are many words and definitions I have never lost. But some I am only just beginning to truly understand.

Where we are going, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be the place that is important but the steps in between.

It's other people who make us wise, and I haven't known nearly enough.

I decide that sometimes definitions are wrong. Even if they're written in a dictionary. Identities aren't always separate and distinct. Sometimes they ARE wrapped up with others. Sometimes, for a few minutes, maybe they can even be shared. And if I am ever fortunate enough to return to Mr. Bender's garden, I wonder if the birds will see that piece of him that is wrapped up in me.

Are the details of our lives who we are, or is it owning those details that makes the difference?

My timing is off. But I had to get it out. Some things you have to tell, no matter how stupid they may sound. Some things you can't save for later. There might not be a later.

I suppose you're right about some perspectives. Just a few weeks ago, I thought you were a dickhead.