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I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

-Isaac Marion

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I Adapt To Things

Isaac Marion

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I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

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Can We Really Choose Anything?' 'maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.

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The Shadows Of The Room Pool In The Lines Of Our Faces, Draining Our Eyes Of Hue. "there's Nothing Left Worth Saying.

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I Want A New Past,new Memories, A New First Handshake With Love. I Want To Start Over In Every Possible Way.

I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

Exclamation Marks

Punctuation Marks

I Want Life And In All Its Stupid Sticky Rawness.

You Can Order Yourself To Treasure A Moment, To Cling Tight To A Feeling And Never Let It Fade, But It's Your Brain, That Three-pound Lump Of Hamburger, That Makes The Final Call.

...wanting Change Is Step One, But Step Two Is Taking It.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

I Wish People Were Willing To Dig A Little Deeper Than The Surface Elements Of A Premise Before Tossing One Story In With Another.

I Used To Split My Time Between Writing, Music And Painting. I Would Work On A Book And Then Abandon It, Start A Band, Do An Album, Quit Music, Then Do A Gallery Show. Eventually I Decided To Give Writing A Serious Shot.

My Favorite Songs Change Every Year.

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I Wince At Her Use Of The Word "human." I've Never Liked That Differentiation. She Is Living And I'm Dead, But We're Both Human. Call Me An Idealist.

Differentiation

Every Experience, Good Or Bad, Is A Priceless Collector's Item.

What's Wrong With People?" She Says, Almost Too Quiet For Me To Hear. "were They Born With Parts Missing Or Did It Fall Out Somewhere Along The Way?

A Month Ago There Was Nothing On Earth I Missed, Enjoyed, Or Longed For. I Knew I Could Lose Everything And Not Feel Anything, And I Rested Easy In That Knowledge. But I'm Growing Tired Of Easy Things.

Music? Music Is Life! It’s Physical Emotion - You Can Touch It! It’s Neon Ecto-energy Sucked Out Of Spirits And Switched Into Sound Waves For Your Ears To Swallow. Are You Telling Me, What, That It’s Boring? You Don’t Have Time For It?

What's The Point Of Trying To Fix A World We're So Briefly In?

I Can Feel It... The Chance To Start Over, To Live Right, To Love Right, To Burn Up In A Fiery Cloud And Never Again Be Buried In The Mud.

Came To . . . See You.” “but I Had To Go Home, Remember? You Were Supposed To Say Good-bye.” “don't Know Why You . . . Say Good-bye. I Say . . . Hello.” Her Lip Quivers Between Reactions, But She Ends Up With A Reluctant Smile. “god You're A Cheeseball. But Seriously, R—

When The Entire World Is Built On Death And Horror, When Existence Is A Constant State Of Panic, It's Hard To Get Worked Up About Any One Thing. Specific Fears Have Become Irrelevant. We've Replace Them With A Smothering Blanket Far Worse.

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