Author: cenobyte

At the beginning of the school year, The Captain came home after classes one day and announced at the dinner table that one of the things they’ll be doing this year is focusing on peer editing for their composition works. I launched in to a long-winded explanation about why that

He wonders if she can see him. Perhaps if he showed up to the restaurant she was at with her lover, she would just look right past him and not see him at all. Then he’d have to walk right up to her and say something, and what would he

He’s nervous when he sees her. He doesn’t know what to say, whether she wants him to talk to her or whether she figures he’d be better off crawling in a hole and never speaking again. Perhaps he wants to say something. Something profound. Perhaps all he wants to say

I think of David often, and I find myself missing him at the strangest times. Although he knew he was ill, my uncle took his own life with a shotgun. I have actually lost count of the number of people I love who’ve attempted suicide. Please. You are worth living.

Once upon a time, there was a young man who loved ponies. Nobody thought this was odd because there wasn’t a gender-specific expectation related to the love of diminutive equines. When he was old enough, he wondered aloud at a street art shoppe whether there was something he could do

I thought I was fortunate to be in those good graces. I thought that affection was a gift; that I was somehow special. Every lesson we learn comes at a price and the price of this lesson has been self-doubt, heartache, and sadness. This, like all other things, will pass.

I have spent too much time gazing inward. Trying to rebuild the wall around my heart. I should have learned that the wall does nothing but crumble into itself and cause more pain. It’s a normal defence mechanism, I suppose. I recognise that the paulo pecatta were never intentional. That’s