Breathing Underwater

Anyone else feel like that? Like your life's a big act. Like you're trying to be a man when you're just a scared kid, trying to keep under control when you really want to scream, cry, maybe hit someone. Ever feel like you're breathing underwater, and you have to stop because you're gulping in too much fluid?

It's easier to fake it. When you fake it for sixteen years, it becomes part of you, something you don't think about.

What happened December 12?” Polyester asks. I look at the wall, my attention suddenly riveted by a palmetto bug, feelers writhing. I could kill it if I wanted. He hit me.” The bug slides to the floor.

Funny how you can know something and yet not believe it's possible.

I remember, now, how to cry.

I can't go on like this

We accept without question that we–human beings– are the center of the universe. Talk about hubris. But when a woman says, 'I love you', that won't go through our skulls.

You can't respect yourself if you're letting someone beat you up–inside or out.

It's about doing the right thing even if you don't want to do it. About taking responsibility for your actions...it's about letting go when you really, really want to hold on so bad.

Somewhere down the road...I hope you find [that girls] don't all have the same thing between their ears. The good ones don't put up with macho mind games.

Control is part of faking it

And Caitlin smiled. I Wanted to put her smile in my pocket to look at over and over

Having screwed around the last hour trying to decide whether to write in the style of Isaac Asimov (that version featured Caitlin as a Venusian chick with one eye and three breasts) or Dr. Seuss (“I am Nick/Nick is sick/Nick tells Debbie to…” well, you get the idea),