Show Me What A Man

Freak The Ferocious Out.

I Hate How The People Who Really Get You Are The Ones You Can Never Hold On To For Very Long. And The Ones Who Don’t Understand You At All Stick Around.

But Most Critically, Sweet, Never Try To Change The Narrative Structure Of Someone Else's Story, Though You Will Certainly Be Tempted To, As You Watch Those Poor Souls In School, In Life, Heading Unwittingly Down Dangerous Tangents, Fatal Digressions From Which They Will Unlikely Be Able To Emerge. Resist The Temptation. Spend Your Energies On Your Story. Reworking It. Making It Better.

Those Around You Can Have Their Novellas, Sweet, Their Short Stories Of Cliché And Coincidence, Occasionally Spiced Up With Tricks Of The Quirky, The Achingly Mundane, The Grotesque. A Few Will Even Cook Up Greek Tragedy, Those Born Into Misery, Destined To Die In Misery. But You, My Bride Of Quietness, You Will Craft Nothing Less Than Epic With Your Life. Out Of All Of Them, Your Story Will Be The One To Last.

I Was Aware Too How Strange Adults Were, How Theirs Lives Were Vaster Than They Wanted Anyone To Realize, That They Actually Stretched On And On Like Deserts, Dry And Desolate, With An Unpredictable, Shifting Sea Of Dunes.