Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

I woke to the sound of rain.

There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room.

Read widely of others' experiences, even if it'd be more comfortable to snuggle back in the comforting cotton-wool of blissful ignorance.

The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.