The criterion by which any activity must be judged: would you rather be asleep?

Thank you for seeing me. I really think I’m un—
raveling.
Unrav—
Unraveling.
Wait—are you actually making fun of my voice?
Your choice of words. A bit maudlin and clichéd.
All words are clichés—that’s why they’re words, for fuck sake. I can’t believe I’m paying you 250 an hour—
And there it is—I wondered how long til you brought it up.

 In your selfie face I see only pain.

With you, I feel like I do with myself. Like nobody.

When she was little and saw something she liked, she would simply say, “Have it.” And although I know that you, despite this happiness, would rather die than go back, I’d give everything I have to hear it one more time.

Driving back, you remember the hopeful innocent you were just a week ago, still on your way. 

This just in: internet preferable to all previous human endeavor.

She was his truth, his bellwether and moral compass. Without her he was lost, but also he was just plain lost.

Holding your breath and breathing at the same time. That’s no way to live.