It’s always the worst at night. I have no idea why.
That’s when the images and sounds flood my mind. It’s as though someone made a movie and I saw only the first part. I loved the movie and wanted to see all of it. I loved it so much that I wanted to live in it, but I couldn’t.
And then someone had all the images and sounds and smells and emotions from the rest of that movie — and feeds bits and pieces of them to me at random times. It’s warm and loving images of love and family and home and everything I’ve ever wanted.
There‘s a projector on the inside of my skull — and someone plays those images. What I see teases me and torments me, but I can’t make them go away. I don‘t even know whether I want them to go away.
She’s always there. But she’s not really there.

How to exploit school kids to get elected to almost any office
Anarchist vs. minarchist debate misses the shift to post-statist world
My love of ‘fur friends’ stems from the callousness I saw in my father
Librarian wants random winners after boy ‘hogs’ reading contest
Visit with high school best friend leaves me pondering my old fears
Photo assignment in dimly lit gym kickstarted my love for basketball
VIDEO: Dangerous ideas are the ones that change world for good
Future reality starts in what we believe inside about who we are
Petty politics as usual just might be Chris Christie’s bridge to obscurity