It is only when I am entirely entranced by the metaphysical that I am a person. I am only whole while fully engrossed in my Hitchens and my Faulkner, my insufferable abstractions. I am a collection of meaningless prose. I love to hate and I hate to love. I am a poet, and I like big words; I like strong feelings and existential conceptions. Let us be friends and apportion our mornings with debating divine existence. I love mankind, and I observe it intently. I want to be near to the desolate, the devastated. I wish for them to hear the bells, to know a life, to understand that our pain is liberation. My bells are my Hitchens and my Faulkner – I am so grateful for the arts and humanities. Maybe we are nothing, but from that, we are all things – it is always up to us to become. We must choose to hear the bells, or perhaps, to ring a new sound.