“Every night I pray I whisper into a megaphone, not only so God is sure to hear, but also my neighbors, because I pray to God He’ll deliver pestilence and plague to the residents next door. I even tell God the exact address, as if He can’t read my heart. But it’s not for His benefit, it’s for my neighbors’.”

“I respect my elders, but I don’t respect the Myelders, who are my neighbors, because they are so neglectful of their lawn that it’s like they don’t even exist.”

“The door handle is on the wrong side of the door. It’s on the inside only, only in my dreams. I can leave, but I can’t return.”

“Sometimes I ask God what I did to deserve her love. I maintain my innocence, and of all the forms of God’s wrath from plagues, pestilence, and famine, her love is by far the cruelest.”

“I can’t swim, because despite my love being shaped like Michael Phelps, it’s so heavy it’s like an anti flotation device. If I can barely even carry it, I can understand how it’s a burden to you and why you don’t want to keep it in your heart.”

“I can draw like it’s nobody’s business. I use my door as a canvas, so don’t knock, because it’s nobody’s business.”

“If it’s invisible, I can’t remember if it’s there or not. And not only that, but I can’t even remember what it is.”