How we need another soul to cling to.
I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.
Death may whiten in sun or out of it.
Why am I obsessed with the idea I can justify myself by getting manuscripts published? Is it an escape-an excuse for any social failure-so I can say "No, I don't go out for many extracurricular activities, but I spend a lot of time writing."
Happy! That is indefinable as far as states of being go.
Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.