We Can't Be As Good

I Burst Into Tears And I Cry And Cry Until It Feels As Though It Is Not Salt And Water Being Squeezed From My Eyes, But Blood.

I Miss Him Like One Might Miss A Scar, Or Wooden Leg, Something Disfiguring But Characteristic.

When Even The Scrupulously Detached Bbc Is Exhorting Us To Talk To God, You Know Something Is Going On.

I'm Not Telling You That Suicidal People Aren't So Far Away From People Who Can Get By; I'm Telling You That People Who Can Get By Aren't So Far Away From Being Suicidal.

Unhappiness Really Meant Something Back Then. Now It's Just A Drag, Like A Cold Or Having No Money.