Love Was A Terrible Thing. You Poisoned

Before I Could Read, Almost A Baby, I Imagined That God, This Strange Thing Or Person I Heard About, Was A Book.

Next Week, Or Next Month, Or Next Year I Will Kill Myself. But I Might As Well Last Out My Month's Rent, Which Has Been Paid Up.

I Would Never Be Part Of Anything. I Would Never Really Belong Anywhere, And I Knew It, And All My Life Would Be The Same, Trying To Belong, And Failing. Always Something Would Go Wrong. I Am A Stranger And I Always Will Be, And After All I Didn’t Really Care.

What You Take To Be Hyprocrisy Is Sometimes A Certain Caution, Sometimes Genuine, Though Ponderous, Childish, Sometimes A Mixture Of Both.

Sometimes The Earth Trembles; Sometimes You Can Feel It Breathe.