I think the promise of fame and what it holds to you as a child and dreaming of it is not what it is. What it is, I’m not complaining about, but it’s just different than the reality you dreamed.
I’d always admired writers. I’d always loved words on a page. Somehow, words seemed to bypass image and get straight to the heart of things. Somehow, words seemed big enough to contain pain, and sentences could pull broken bits together.
Why do you think people don’t think that homosexual parents are good? You don’t know what a homosexual family looks like. I will be the role model for the good gay family. Don’t let these children suffer without families because of your bias.
I think everyone spins. You would just be an empty vacant shell reporting facts. I mean, you have your life that you bring with you to every moment that happens.
