Pompous
The weirdest thing just happened to me. I was walking back to my office when a co-worker complemented me on my shoes. I thanked her, and then she told me that I acted stuck-up. Conversations ensued.
Grandeur
I hate getting all “emo,” but I am really tired of putting my all into many things and never getting anything back. I know that it is silly and self-centered, but I just can’t help but wonder, “Why does no one like my things? Why does no one care?” I have some hypotheses.
Quiver
If every time I got scared, worried, or upset I took a handcrafted arrow and placed it in an old quiver, what would I do with the arrows I had collected? Why, I’m sure that, by this point in life, I would have saved thousands upon thousands of deadly arrows—each as sharp as the pain I inflected upon myself. Would I sit there and let them gather dust, or would I use them for something more meaningful?