I try to welcome my sorrow. There's no escape, anyway. If a guest turns up uninvited, do you burn your house down to keep them away? I think of my grandparents, and I think of their sons, who can't set aside themselves and just be there for once. I think of my brother. I've never been there for him. He's always had to be brave. I've been a coward since we were kids. And it goes on and on and on and on and on. I try to welcome the joy, but I don't want to hold it too tight. Does it matter how much you love the sun? It's still going to set at night. I think of my dad, writing haikus for butterflies. Something's changed in his life. He used to have so much pain in his eyes. I think of my mom. She's always been so smart, but she keeps getting wiser the more she listens to her heart. And it goes on and on and on and on. It goes on and on and on and on.