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.

Obama’s plan to ‘tax the rich’ is simply class warfare — and politics
Years later, Supreme Court justice apologizes to Susette Kelo, sorta
If president can just ignore laws, what’s the purpose of having laws?
Silly controversy over Cadillac ad reminds us we want different things
Why Santorum is wrong: When God sees sinful world, that includes U.S.
God watches humanity’s struggle and says, ‘You’re doing it wrong’
We fill life with noise because silence forces us to hear truth
Trivial objects have power to be containers for strong emotions
Cop pepper-spraying protesters is symbol for arrogant police culture