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3 " I see things in windows and I say to myself that I want them. I want them because I want to belong. I want to be liked by more people, I want to be held in higher regard than others. I want to feel valued, so I say to myself to watch certain shows. I watch certain shows on the television so I can participate in dialogues and conversations and debates with people who want the same things I want. I want to dress a certain way so certain groups of people are forced to be attracted to me. I want to do my hair a certain way with certain styling products and particular combs and methods so that I can fit in with the In-Crowd. I want to spend hours upon hours at the gym, stuffing my body with what scientists are calling 'superfoods', so that I can be loved and envied by everyone around me. I want to become an icon on someone's mantle. I want to work meaningless jobs so that I can fill my wallet and parentally-advised bank accounts with monetary potential. I want to believe what's on the news so that I can feel normal along with the rest of forever. I want to listen to the Top Ten on Q102, and roll my windows down so others can hear it and see that I am listening to it, and enjoying it. I want to go to church every Sunday, and pray every other day. I want to believe that what I do is for the promise of a peaceful afterlife. I want rewards for my 'good' deeds. I want acknowledgment and praise. And I want people to know that I put out that fire. I want people to know that I support the war effort. I want people to know that I volunteer to save lives. I want to be seen and heard and pointed at with love. I want to read my name in the history books during a future full of clones exactly like me.

The mirror, I've noticed, is almost always positioned above the sink. Though the sink offers more depth than a mirror, and mirror is only able to reflect, the sink is held in lower regard. Lower still is the toilet, and thought it offers even more depth than the sink, we piss and shit in it. I want these kind of architectural details to be paralleled in my every day life. I want to care more about my reflection, and less about my cleanliness. I want to be seen as someone who lives externally, and never internally, unless I am able to lock the door behind me.

I want these things, because if I didn't, I would be dead in the mirrors of those around me. I would be nothing. I would be an example. Sunken, and easily washed away. "

Dave Matthes

4 " FatherMichael has entered the room
Wildflower: Ah don’t tell me you’re through a divorce yourself Father?
SureOne: Don’t be silly Wildflower, have a bit of respect! He’s here for the ceremony.
Wildflower: I know that. I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere.
FatherMichael: So have the loving couple arrived yet?
SureOne: No but it’s customary for the bride to be late.
FatherMichael: Well is the groom here?
SingleSam has entered the room
Wildflower: Here he is now. Hello there SingleSam. I think this is the first time ever that both the bride and groom will have to change their names.
SingleSam: Hello all.
Buttercup: Where’s the bride?
LonelyLady: Probably fixing her makeup.
Wildflower: Oh don’t be silly. No one can even see her.
LonelyLady: SingleSam can see her.
SureOne: She’s not doing her makeup; she’s supposed to keep the groom waiting.
SingleSam: No she’s right here on the laptop beside me. She’s just having problems with her password logging in.
SureOne: Doomed from the start.
Divorced_1 has entered the room
Wildflower: Wahoo! Here comes the bride, all dressed in . . .
SingleSam: Black.
Wildflower: How charming.
Buttercup: She’s right to wear black.
Divorced_1: What’s wrong with misery guts today?
LonelyLady: She found a letter from Alex that was written 12 years ago proclaiming his love for her and she doesn’t know what to do.
Divorced_1: Here’s a word of advice. Get over it, he’s married. Now let’s focus the attention on me for a change.
SoOverHim has entered the room
FatherMichael: OK let’s begin. We are gathered here online today to witness the marriage of SingleSam (soon to be “Sam”) and Divorced_1 (soon to be “Married_1”).
SoOverHim: WHAT?? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?
THIS IS A MARRIAGE CEREMONY IN A DIVORCED PEOPLE CHAT ROOM??
Wildflower: Uh-oh, looks like we got ourselves a gate crasher here. Excuse me can we see your wedding invite please?
Divorced_1: Ha ha.
SoOverHim: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY? YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK, COMING IN HERE AND TRYING TO
UPSET OTHERS WHO ARE GENUINELY TROUBLED.
Buttercup: Oh we are genuinely troubled alright. And could you please STOP SHOUTING.
LonelyLady: You see SoOverHim, this is where SingleSam and Divorced_1 met for the first time.
SoOverHim: OH I HAVE SEEN IT ALL NOW!
Buttercup: Sshh!
SoOverHim: Sorry. Mind if I stick around?
Divorced_1: Sure grab a pew; just don’t trip over my train.
Wildflower: Ha ha.
FatherMichael: OK we should get on with this; I don’t want to be late for my 2 o’clock. First I have to ask, is there anyone in here who thinks there is any reason why these two should not be married?
LonelyLady: Yes.
SureOne: I could give more than one reason.
Buttercup: Hell yes.
SoOverHim: DON’T DO IT!
FatherMichael: Well I’m afraid this has put me in a very tricky predicament.
Divorced_1: Father we are in a divorced chat room, of course they all object to marriage. Can we get on with it?
FatherMichael: Certainly. Do you Sam take Penelope to be your lawful wedded wife?
SingleSam: I do.
FatherMichael: Do you Penelope take Sam to be your lawful wedded husband?
Divorced_1: I do (yeah, yeah my name is Penelope).
FatherMichael: You have already e-mailed your vows to me so by the online power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride. Now if the witnesses could click on the icon to the right of the screen they will find a form to type their names, addresses, and phone numbers. Once that’s filled in just e-mail it off to me. I’ll be off now. Congratulations again.
FatherMichael has left the room
Wildflower: Congrats Sam and Penelope!
Divorced_1: Thanks girls for being here.
SoOverHim: Freaks.
SoOverHim has left the room "

Cecelia Ahern , Love, Rosie

16 " All depression has its roots in self-pity, and all self-pity is rooted in people taking themselves too seriously." At the time Switters had disputed her assertion. Even at seventeen, he was aware that depression could have chemical causes." The key word here is roots," Maestra had countered. " The roots of depression. For most people, self-awareness and self-pity blossom simultaneously in early adolescence. It's about that time that we start viewing the world as something other than a whoop-de-doo playground, we start to experience personally how threatening it can e, how cruel and unjust. At the very moment when we become, for the first time, both introspective and socially conscientious, we receive the bad news that the world, by and large, doesn't give a rat's ass. Even an old tomato like me can recall how painful, scary, and disillusioning that realization was. So, there's a tendency, then, to slip into rage and self-pity, which if indulged, can fester into bouts of depression." " Yeah but Maestra - " " Don't interrupt. Now, unless someone stronger and wiser - a friend, a parent, a novelist, filmmaker, teacher, or musician - can josh us out of it, can elevate us and show us how petty and pompous and monumentally useless it is to take ourselves so seriously, then depression can become a habit, which, in tern, can produce a neurological imprint. Are you with me? Gradually, our brain chemistry becomes conditioned to react to negative stimuli in a particular, predictable way. One thing'll go wrong and it'll automatically switch on its blender and mix us that black cocktail, the ol' doomsday daiquiri, and before we know it, we're soused to the gills from the inside out. Once depression has become electrochemically integrated, it can be extremely difficult to philosophically or psychologically override it; by then it's playing by physical rules, a whole different ball game. That's why Switters my dearest, every time you've shown signs of feeling sorry for yourself, I've played my blues records really loud or read to you from The Horse's Mouth. And that's why when you've exhibited the slightest tendency toward self-importance, I've reminded you that you and me - you and I: excuse me - may be every bit as important as the President or the pope or the biggest prime-time icon in Hollywood, but none of us is much more than a pimple on the ass-end of creation, so let's not get carried away with ourselves. Preventive medicine, boy. It's preventive medicine." " But what about self-esteem?" " Heh! Self-esteem is for sissies. Accept that you're a pimple and try to keep a lively sense of humor about it. That way lies grace - and maybe even glory. "