Nightmare

There was a thunderstorm that night. I was lying awake in bed, unaware, as the closed windows and drawn curtains gave nothing away. You laughed at me and informed me that nine people had died somewhere in the storm. I, on the other hand, selfishly had different thoughts on my mind. Or was it so selfish? I don't know. I remember everything you told me but not a word of what I said in reply. I only remember not being of much help. But, then again, what was there to say? Words from "The Kite Runner" kept flooding back to me. Something about the fear of being profoundly happy. Something else about fear, about life. Does it really matter? May God bless us all.

Ughh.

The bottom line is that they are all assholes in their own, very unique ways.