For Me, The Past Is Dead. Can't

The Reason It's Hard For Me To Tweet Is I Don't Want To Pronounce Anything, And Twitter Is For Pronouncing.

People Don't Expect Too Much From Literature. They Just Want To Know They're Not Alone With Being Confused.

The Real Self And The Public Self Are Intertwined, Like A Tumor Around An Organ, And You Can't Cut The Tumor Or You'll Kill The Organ, So They Live Together, Until The Tumor Chokes The Organ Off - But Which Self Is The Tumor?. Or It's Like Something Out Of Star Trek. The Borg.

Oh, God, I Don't Know What's More Difficult, Life Or The English Language.

I'm On The Verge Of A Total Breakdown. Sciatica. Taxes. Cars. Fleas, Possibly. It's An Absurd Existence.