I honestly don’t think I’d mind if someone left me at a hospital by myself.

Sometimes life leaves me at a loss for words.

Then I remember that I’m just a person in a world full of people, and everything makes sense.

I can’t stand going home on the bus at night when the landscape stretches out in endless blackness through the window, forcing me to look at translucent reflections of people I don’t want to look at.

I wonder if anyone else enjoys making love when they’re sad.

I realized that my writing is very dry.