... Her Taste In Music Haunted My

Open The Hood Of A Car And It Will Tell You Something About The People Who Designed It, Is Just One Of Many Phrases I’m Tortured By.

Life Is Like A Typographical Error: We're Constantly Writing And Rewriting Things Over Each Other.

And It Struck Me Then, That I Liked Sean Because He Looked, Well, Slutty. A Boy Who Had Been Around. A Boy Who Couldn't Remember If He Was Catholic Or Not.

I Have All The Characteristics Of A Human Being: Blood, Flesh, Skin, Hair; But Not A Single, Clear, Identifiable Emotion, Except For Greed And Disgust. Something Horrible Is Happening Inside Of Me And I Don't Know Why. My Nightly Bloodlust Has Overflown Into My Days. I Feel Lethal, On The Verge Of Frenzy. I Think My Mask Of Sanity Is About To Slip.

What Do You Do?' She Asks, Holding Out The Vest. 'what Do You Do?' 'what Do You Do?' She Asks, Her Voice Shaking. 'don't Ask Me, Please. Okay, Clay?' 'why Not?' She Sits On The Mattress After I Get Up. Muriel Screams. 'because... I Don't Know,' She Sighs. I Look At Her And Don't Feel Anything And Walk Out With My Vest.