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.

‘Conservative’ and ‘liberal’ should refer to temperament, not politics
Authentic identity gets lost when everything becomes performance
In the middle of world’s madness, happiness makes me think of her
National sugar daddy? Warren Buffet wants to give us money … sorta
If Boston bombing suspect doesn’t have rights, neither do the rest of us
Why have I kept dreaming about baby in need for last two weeks?
I keep forgetting that I can’t save those who don’t want to be saved
There are times we need to quit; what do you need to quit today?
‘We’re live with people standing in line. Did we mention we’re live?’