To Write A Short Story,

Later I Would Come To Believe That Erotic Ties Were All A Spell, A Temporary Psychosis, Even A Kind Of Violence, Or At Least They Coexisted With These States.

You Are Unhappy Because You Believe In Such A Thing As Happy.

I've Accrued A Kind Of Patience, I Believe, Loosely Like Change.

I Do Have People In Mind When I Write. I Don't Know Precisely Who They Are, However, Or How Many Of Them There Are.

I Want To Pretend There's Such A Thing As Requited Love. As The Endurance Of Love.