I Hate Feelings. Why Does

I Feel Like They Are Two Different Things, And When I Write Books, They're Just Books. If They Can Be Movies That's Okay. But I Would Write A Novel That Couldn't Be A Film.

I Loved Most When His Eyelashes Twitched And He Blinked, And Suddenly Happiness Was There Inside His Eyes. Unmistakable. Like A Single Word Printed On A Clean White Page.

If I Were Blind I'd Rather Have Another Blind Person Leading Me Around Because They Know What I'm Dealing With And They're Experiencing The Same Things.

I Wouldn't Want To Waste Any Of My Brain Cells On Forgiving If It's Holding Me Back.

As A Young Child I Had Santa And Jesus All Mixed Up. I Could Identify Coke Or Pepsi With Just One Sip, But I Could Not Tell You For Sure Why They Strapped Santa To A Cross. Had He Missed A House? Had A Good Little Girl Somewhere In The World Not Received The Doll He'd Promised Her, Making The Father Angry?