I am writing these words specifically for you, and as you read them you are letting me become a part of you. The words and the thoughts I express exist in your mind now; a part of my thinking resides within you and in that way we are connected as you read. I am putting a part of myself in these words, I live through them, and as long as you read me you will keep a part of me alive, always. Even if I were to pass from this world, all that it would take for me to live on is for you to read these words I write for you. It's our connection to one another, and though you are a complete stranger to me I am not afraid to let myself cherish you for giving me life beyond death, for giving me a reason, and for giving me a place within yourself to dwell, even if for a moment.
I am a writer and if I do my job well then I will give you a piece of myself that you will want to keep with you, and in my mind that is a concept too beautiful for words. Dearest reader, I would take a bullet for you. For you I would shine a warm light in the coldest, darkest night. I would always keep my hand ready should you want to reach out for it. If you were hated by the world, I would stand with you and if everyone started throwing rocks or loosing arrows I would wrap myself around you. You make me what I am, and I mean every word of what I've said.
All the love in the world pulses through me as I do what I am supposed to do.
Now begins my sacred work…
Two hats are hanging on a hat rack when one turns to the other and says, "you stay here, I'll go on a head!"
Did you ever hear about that soldier who came back from the war after being exposed to mustard gas and pepper spray? Yes, he is a seasoned veteran.
Seriously though, I took my puppy Bowser to the vet's office the other day because he hurt his paw and the vet picks him up and looks him over and says "Mr. Moses I'm going to have to put Bowser down," so I said "but why?!" and he said "because he's very heavy."
Oh, and you know I got a new book about Glue, I couldn't put it down!
But you know what really makes my blood boil? A crematorium.
We are now connected through love and painful groans.
