I Know For A Fact That Sickness

That’s The Nice Thing About Dreams, The Way You Wake Up Before You Fall.

And Yet You Are All That You Have, So You Must Be Enough. There Is No Other Way.

My God! People Say. You Have So Much Self-control! And Later: My God. You're So, So Sick. When People Say This, They Turn Their Heads, You've Won Your Little Game. You Have Proven Your Thesis That No-body-loves-me-every-body-hates-me, Guess-i'll-just-eat-worms. You Get To Sink Back Into Your Hospital Bed, Shrieking With Righteous Indignation. See? You Get To Say. I Knew You'd Give Up On Me. I Knew You'd Leave.

Having A Normal Person Around Me Made It Poingnantly Clear To Me That I Was Out Of Control.

Hatred Is So Much Closer To Love Than Indifference.