When I was done reading the poem, everyone was quiet. A very sad quiet. But the amazing thing was that it wasn’t a bad sad at all. It was just something that made everyone look around at each other and know that they were there. Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific really. They just knew. And I think that’s all you can ever ask from a friend.

I am very interested and fascinated how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.

I know that I brought this all on myself. I know that I deserve this. I'd do anything not to be this way. I'd do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being "passive aggressive.

Those writers that have zero say in their movie adaptations have zero say because they sell it. If you don't sell it, and you do it yourself, and you wait until the screenplay is ready, you don't have to worry about that.

All I could do is lie there and think about how much her voice changed when she asked me if she was pretty, and how much she changed when I answered.

And I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are. I really hope they are.

But right now I’m here with you. And I want to know where you are, what you need, and what you want to do.