I liked Reality better when it was a dream.

I think that I will turn around and notice the wind blowing tops of trees. I'll see the way the world begins to need color everywhere. And I'll realize how small I really am. And then I'll spin right back around. And say, "Nick, why are you such a prick?
Why can't you just marvel in the hopes that make up this reality? Your world is what you made it. And I don't want a part of it."

I'm through being cool.
Jul 06
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“ It’s just hard,” Harry said finally, in a low voice, “to realize he won’t write me again.
— Harry Potter, on Sirius’s death. Or, as I feel it — me relating to death via a childhood series.