think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a
million little strings attached to every choice you make; you
can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you
won’t know for twenty years. And you’ll never ever
trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it
out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say
there is no fate, but there is: it’s what you create.
Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here
for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is
spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in
vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look
from someone or something to make it all right. And it never
comes or it seems to but doesn’t really. And so you spend
your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to
come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you
feel whole, to make you feel loved.