Больше цитат
24 августа 2020 г., 11:47
I've met God at his long wooden desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?"
Why did I cause so much pain?
Didn't I realize that each of us is a unique snowflake?
Cant' I see how we're all loved?
I look at God behind his desk, taking notes, but God's wrong.
We are not special.
We are not trash, either.
We just are.
We just are, and what happens just happens.
