In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.

So here is why I write what I do: We all have futures. We all have pasts. We all have stories. And we all, every single one of us, no matter who we are and no matter what’s been taken from us or what poison we’ve internalized or how hard we’ve had to work to expel it – – we all get to dream.

You are Insignificant. One of millions, neither special nor unique. I did not ask for this ignominy, and I resent the comparison. Fine. I don't you like you, either.

But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn't it?

But when I got angry, my nerves sought an outlet, and my mouth didn't always guard the gates.

If the gods do decide to wipe us out, is it such a bad thing? Maybe we've earned a little annihilation.

Immortality gets very, very boring. You'd be surprised at how interesting the small mundanities of life can seem after a few millennia.