I went combing through the archives because I had nothing better to do but rehash old words I had written years ago. It was bleak. Looking back at my dreams with that long look of pity in my eye. Oh. I could have done better. I could have tried harder. I could have dreamed bigger. I could have written more. I can always write more. And more. And more. Forever and ever. These words are like a river, and I am floating lazily down their back, hoping one day to drown inside of them, in bliss and asphyxiation.