Sometimes I leave the TV on late at night, even if I’m in the other room, because I want to feel like there’s someone else there with me.
Sometimes I think about all the faces in my ceiling and if they’re really the faces of my future… As if I may be looking up at people that my mind doesn’t yet know but my heart does; as if my ceiling is a crystal ball that never. stops. glowing.
There are things people want to know, like: “Which God do you believe in?” and “What makes you sad?” and “Did you ever cry because you were so happy?”
Did you ever feel your veins bursting with all that hot, fast emotion your heart couldn’t hold within itself? So much blood bursting (like how it does in The Shining, like really dark Fruit Punch Kool-Aid) that your eyes begin to sting and before you know it you are wiping at your cheek?
"Do you want to go to the cinema with me?"
All I can do is blink and make excuses. No. No, no thank you. I have to go home.
I need to make sure your face could possibly be in my ceiling. I need to pretend the voices of the characters on 30 Rock are party guests in my living room.