02:15 a.m. Here’s an illusion I’d like to do away with. It’s hardly ever beautiful. If ever. It hurts. Like hell. It takes more from you than any experience of temporary happiness can ever hope to give you. You run back to it senselessly because it’s the pain you know and anything else burns...

The first page of a notebook is like the naming of a child ________________________________________ In the Garden With the understanding that everything dies And all must end Surrounded by trees With countless little green leaves I can’t help but wonder What the last leaf On the last living branch Of the last living tree...