I sometimes tell insects that I'm sorry. I will tell the bug the truth, and sometimes the truth is that it was sitting in wet paint. I tell myself that it is better for it to go fast, rather than letting the poor thing go slowly by itself. Maybe it's in an insect's melancholic nature to sit down in wet paint and wait to die. It may be the reason we call them bugs; that they tend to bug themselves to death. (But still I'm sorry.)
If you had only given your cats anti-contraceptives you wouldn't have to kill those precious kittens. Don't be mean if you don't want to be left. I didn't like it when you aimed the wheels at the frogs on the road that evening, like they were hundreds of newly blown bubbles. I wish none of you had to support any forces and be so very proud of them - the limbless, dead and mentally traumatized. Had you not been so goddamn moody I might have liked you even more.
Sometimes I have thoughts of what life would be like if people in general preferred to agree, find solutions and get along instead of having to discuss everything, arguing over things and distancing themselves from each other. Please, just have some ice-cream and try for once losing the battle and be happy about it - we might win the war together.
