Someone once told me people write down stories because they would like to forget, and those who read are those who would like to remember. Maybe I’m not ready to forget, and maybe you’re not ready to remember. This is what I recall; I’m sorry if it is a little spotty. I suppose it is what I have the strength to forget…

I just want a soft creature with shiny eyes to lay with in the dark, the glint of her eyes reflected back at mine, a last few whispers, a kiss goodnight, to calm me down but most of all … to make me feel alive when morning shines.

However confused I become, I will always hold close the notion that I could find freedom. I could leave this prison if I liked, if I wanted to … or if I didn’t see any other way. And if I did, I would not give you the satisfaction of burying me under a priest.

Read this book ... but understand it’s fiction. And let life be ... your most important addiction.