There are worse things than dying, like being in love for example. Falling in love is like falling asleep at the wheel of a car with someone in the passenger seat-- Everything is okay until it’s not and you are both broken and bleeding and she’s crying and all you can think to say is **** my bad. I should have known better than to operate a motor vehicle while under the influence of something as poisonous as love. But the downsides are much clearer from the other side of a shattered windshield. I can’t help but wonder if beneath all my blood the grass is greener than where I came from. It isn’t.