I finally decided if I was going to make a living, I was gonna have to come to New York.
We both laugh. And it feels good. A release. Like laughing at a funeral. Maybe inappropriate, but definitely needed.
One little ripple started today could create a typhoon fifteen years from now.
I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.
I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (. . . ) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.
I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.
That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.
Wes wants to be with Macy. And Macy, whether she'll admit it or not, wants to be with Wes. And yet they're not together, which is not only unjust, but when you think about it, tragical!
The world has been tragic since the day Adam and Eve sinned in the garden. From that moment murder, mayhem and war entered the scene and we are still suffering the consequences of a man-driven, self-serving, short-sighted environment.
A harmless necessary cat.
Who can determine where one ends and the other begins?