I Promote My Own Self-hatred.

Maybe My Work Isn't A Cry For Help. It May Just Be A Baby's Need To Cry Or A Dog's Need To Bark. You Know, Barks That Seem Connected To Phantom Noises And Cries That Just Come; Though A Baby's Cries Are Usually Efficient - Something Is Bothering Them. Anyway, I Think Giving Money Is A Sign Of Love. If You Truly Want To Help Someone, A Lot Of Times Giving Them Money Is The Best Thing You Can Do.

Nothing Wrong With Changing Your Mind. That's A Very Unwaffling Thing To Say: "nothing Wrong..." Who Am I To Say That There's Nothing Wrong With It? Maybe Something Is Wrong With Changing Your Mind. Anyway, Love Is Very, Very Difficult. I Love. But Probably Because I Hate Myself On Some Deep, Sick Level, It Makes Loving Difficult. But I Do Try.

I've Always Been Inspired By Don Quixote As A Role Model Of Sorts, Of The Power Of Books To Sort Of Make You Insane In Maybe A Beautiful Way.

I'm Actually Much More Shy And Self-conscious Than People's Perception Of Me.

I Always Liked Those Characters In 'true Blood' Who Could Turn Into Animals. I'd Love To Be An Animal Of Some Kind And Run Quickly Through A Forest.