No real people were harmed in the making of these thoughts (I wish)

This is it.

Now. Right now—this very moment.

Not ten minutes from now, when you sit for ten minutes in the back room.

Not tomorrow, when it’s light again.

Not next year, when you’re done with school.

In this moment you decide: bow your head, bend your knee, weep for the love you can’t give, or continue to snap, and bite, and flail.

Choose to see the soul inside the bag of meat and bones in front o...