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The thing about gratitude is that when you recognize wealth, materialistic or spiritual, what remains is the probability of loss.

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Sometimes my greatest fear is to be forced to talk. Like, when I am in a café, I absolutely dread yelling out “lawsamaht” to order or something, I hate explaining to the cab where my turn is and God help me if he is a talkative driver. How naked that makes me.

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I look at a girl’s silky legs, firm shoulders, striking collar bones, rational hair, and I am angry at her; I truly despise her.

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A week ago I was a little over tipsy and I asked a male friend to grab my boob. He said no. I am not sure if it’s because he is a gentlemen or because the thought of it disgusted him.