Years later he finally learned to appreciate the flavor of the shit sandwich.

By April, life has killed you.

The annual reenactment of Trump stealing the baby Jesus.

(Seeing it down on paper, it all seems a bit juvenile.)

Everything I’ve lost, I want back.
Except for the bad parts; those you can keep.

All that work, all that time, all those years, adding up to so little.

Fundamental error: evaluation of others extrapolated from personal circumstance.

Our survival rests on the trust that there was something called light; and upon inwardly kindling a vestige of what may have existed.

When someone says, ‘People either love me or they hate me,’ it’s usually the latter.

For the first time this morning all three of my crumpled kleenex reached the trash can on the other side of the bed. Maybe this will be the day things finally start to turn around.

He got out of bed only when the need for coffee outweighed the pain of existence.

You see an idea where I see a picture.

You’ve won, we have no fight left, it’s your world, which is nothing, less than nothing, welcome to it.

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