I feel like it's important every once in a while to estrange ourselves from the familiar to remind ourselves of the potentialities of people, how many different ways there are of being.

I eat broccoli. I think about the plot. I pace in circles for hours, counter-clockwise, listening to music. I try to think of one detail in the scene I'm about to write that I'm really excited about writing. Until I can come up with that one detail, I pace.

it's like a squid in love with the sky.

I do not know what I regret. I sit with my pen, and cannot find an end to that sentence.

You need the noise of your friends in space.

The sky was as blue as a stupid postcard, and the islands were as green as islands.

And I realize that the decision to be human is not one single instant, but is a thousand choices made very day. It is choices we make every second and requires constant vigilance. We have to fight to remain human.