I'm Not A General Or

Once Again The Absurdity Of My Inner Thoughts Overwhelms Me, And I Want To Crawl Out Of My Skin, Escape My Ugly, Awkward Flesh And Be A Skeleton, Naked And Anonymous.

Once You've Arrived At The End Of The World, It Hardly Matters Which Route You Took.

It's Rare That I Read More Than Two Or Three Books By Any One Author, Usually Only One.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

Soft Flesh Is Eaten By Hard Teeth.