I won't describe what I look like. Whatever you're thinking, it's probably worse.

A big sister who cries over being human over you. A gravelly voiced kid who's friends left him over you. And a pink-haired girl who keeps your picture in her wallet.

We carry with us, as human beings, not just the capacity to be kind, but the very choice of kindness.

There's a word like overprotective to describe some parents, but no word that means the opposite. What word do you use to describe parents who don't protect enough? Underprotective? Neglectful? Self-involved? Lame? All of the above.

It's so weird how that can be, how you could have a night that's the worst in your life, but to everybody else it's just an ordinary night. Like on my calendar at home, I would mark this as being one of the most horrific days of my life. This and the day Daisy died. But for the rest of the world, this was just an ordinary day. Or may be it was even a good day. May be somebody won the lottery today.

Who we are? Us!Right? What kind of people are we? What kind of person are you? Isn't that the most important thing of all? Isn't that the kind of question we shloud be asking ourselves all the time? 'What kind of person am I?

Or whatever politically correct spiritual representation of universal goodness you happen to believe in.