Not Returning Phone Calls Is

Well, It Doesn't Look Good. Makes Me Look Like One Of Those Unloved Latchkey Children They Make After-school Specials About." "don't Sell Yourself Short. You're More Masterpiece Theatre.

It Felt As If We'd Been To War Together. Deep In A Jungle, Alone, I Had Relied On Them, These Strangers. They'd Held Me Up In Ways Only People Could. When It Was Over, An Ending Never Felt Like An Ending, Only An Exhausted Draw, We Went Our Separate Ways. Be We Were Bonded Forever By The History Of It, The Simple Fact They'd Seen The Raw Side Of Me And Me Of Them, A Side No One, Not Even Closest Friends Or Family Had Ever Seen Before, Or Probably Ever Would.

Life Had Been A Suit I'd Only Put On For Special Occasions. Most Of The Time I Kept It In The Back Of My Closet, Forgetting It Was There. We Were Meant To Die When It Was Barely Stitched Anymore, When The Elbows And Knees Were Stained With Grass And Mud, Shoulder Pads Uneven From People Hugging You All The Time, Downpours And Blistering Sun, The Fabric Faded, Buttons Gone.

Not Returning Phone Calls Is The Severest Form Of Torture In The Civilized World.

If I Scribbled A Few Words On A Cocktail Napkin And Showed It To My Family, They'd Proclaim It Astonishing And More Culturally Relevant Than The Bible.