As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars, the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them.

Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave.