I am more than an option.

"If you are more than the sum of your parts, stand back up." Instead, I kept walking, though I continued to lay down. I got in the car and forgot to look behind ourselves; we hit another part we left on its own, though, and that part of me squealed and cried a bit but eventually was resigned to its tire-track-ridden fate.

I want to not hate everyone I meet. Either that, or I want to not love everyone I meet.

It would appear that I am the sort of person who would have an October birthday. And late October, no less; just two days before Halloween. I used to think of Halloween each and every day from July onwards, reading books about the holiday and the costumes and the recipes for hours and hours. But my interest in the holiday isn't why I'm supposed to be an autumn child.

Sometimes I remember things that definitely happened, but I can't remember with whom. I have this memory of being somewhere about 45 minutes away. It was July two years ago, I think, and the grass was so vividly green that it almost looked plastic, but it was still so soft. There was a bridge. It was very rounded and the brook that it crossed was very shallow and clear. There were a few people on the bridge; teenagers about my age. Maybe it was more than two years ago.

I would like to be able to rely on somebody, but I've come to recognize that my standards are far too high for that. I am the common denominator in my shitty experiences with people.