Why do I feel pg13 in a rated R world?? Who made this self-deprecating, loner laying in his bed on a Saturday night?? For the answers are lost just as my mind races to the start. And the slight, smug smile that comes to my lips is not from you. It's from me. Of how I felt, which, by definition, has nothing to do with you. And as the battery on my netflixing iPad dies, I'm painfully reminded of one thing: if I don't experience the world, I'll only write what I read. And who needs another mind numbing saga, when you can have glitter??