When I was younger, I always wanted to be followed by a moon shadow. I never was.

I lost respect for modern industrialized education when I noticed I could just selectively quote some publicly known passages from any book and convince most of my teachers I had read the whole thing.

The only fond memories I have from my school years are those of the wise librarian who would not report me when she found me ditching class amongst her books and instead introduced me to science, literature, the arts… I never asked her name.

I always dreamed of the day I could learn to ride my favorite uncle’s chrome and blue Honda. He died young in a car crash. To this day my family denies that motorcycle ever existed.

I learned early on that keeping to myself was the best way to survive high school, especially because my way of thinking was totally out of sync with the mob mind. I’m trying hard to unlearn that.

I’ve never liked funerals. They’re supposed to be a way to help each other face the loss, I only find them to be awkward amplifiers of that very same pain. I prefer to mourn in private.

I’m not a happy person, but I least I try to be a content one.