I hear another's voice, a whistle, a shout, a yell. Though frightened, I'll never tell: How deep the sound had hit me. Alone, I am my own choice, encased, uniform, a shell, though loneliness be a homely hell: Unseen, seeing only. What a hefty price to be, sovereign, independent, free. Unheeded, the warning was lost…

You first woke, startled, to find yourself in the living room, with your friend on the couch opposite yours. You felt guilty, because yours was the more comfortable couch—you should have gone to your bed upstairs. She looked cold and uncomfortable—you had taken the only pillow as well as the warmest blanket. She started to…

Thinking about your friends and how they must feel, about how you yourself felt after your own blushing moments, about how much you yourself miss those moments, you think back upon Augustine of Hippo's comment that love always comes too late, as well as Tolstoy's remarkable capacity to depict romances, especially that special kind of…

Returning, again, to another present, you think about the fact that, when you first heard this conversation, you had thought about what it might mean, and what your own thoughts might mean about you, all in the course of 30 seconds; even though it took you much longer to write all these thoughts out, and…