i object

there is still something wrong.
i knew no one understand the book when i wrote it, but i assumed it would be worth my time anyway. everyone who read it went crazy and they put me in jail.

loving a kid like me is like having your intestines pulled out through your mouth.

when i realized he'd stepped right onto a mine, a feeling of relief washed over me.
it would be that easy, and no one would ever know.

everything in the world can be put into words.
my words are working.
and i'm working as hard as i can't