I Convinced Myself I Hadn't Seen Anything,

I Think We've All Lost Some Kind Of Feeling.

I Am Gripped By An Existential Panic.

There Are No More Barriers To Cross. All I Have In Common With The Uncontrollable And The Insane, The Vicious And The Evil, All The Mayhem I Have Caused And My Utter Indifference Toward It I Have Now Surpassed. My Pain Is Constant And Sharp And I Do Not Hope For A Better World For Anyone, In Fact I Want My Pain To Be Inflicted On Others. I Want No One To Escape, But Even After Admitting This There Is No Catharsis, My Punishment Continues To Elude Me And I Gain No Deeper Knowledge Of Myself; No New Knowledge Can Be Extracted From My Telling. This Confession Has Meant Nothing.

It's Because You're Always Fighting Sentiment. You're Fighting Sentimentality All Of The Time Because Being A Mother Alerts You In Such A Primal Way.

And As The Elevator Descents, Passing The Second Floor, And The First Floor, Going Even Father Down, I Realize That The Money Doesn't Matter. That All That Does Is That I Want To See The Worst