She said, "I know what it's like to be dead,"

I know what it's like to be dead too. And I didn't need acid to tell me.

I love the snippets of paragraphs, the first few sentences and a title, stuck on the page. No matter how many times I try to link the chain breaks. So it's up to my feeble mind to fill in the blanks, to finish what they're all trying to say. But it's okay. Because I do a good job. Because there's nothing unexpected said. Not that pertains to me, anyway. Everything's redundant and blackened and, when pressed against this backdrop of high school emotions, it's meaningless.

Everyone's so happy at the end of the movie, and I feel good. Then I remember that life doesn't end when the credits do. So I don't.

Sometimes I can't bear to listen to music; it speaks to me too plainly and my heart fills fit to burst. I could lie here my entire life with my eyes closed and the sunshine dripping in my window across my still form; if I could hear the music pounding in my ears I would still feel as if I had lived life for the glory, for the cheap thrills, for the religious awakenings. I wish I could, I truly wish I could. Music can break your heart as fully as a girl can, and it takes a lot less effort.

I think I'd love to live in a bathtub. It's taken me this long but I've finally realized that bathtubs are where I am most at ease. Dubliners is so much easier to understand with bubbles up to my chin and a nudist lifestyle adopted for an hour or two.