Time Heals All Wounds. And If It

Now That He's Gone, I Feel Like I'm A Senior Citizen Who Gave Away Her Life Savings Over The Phone. And This Is The Crux: I Never In My Life Believed In Someone As Much As I Believed In Him. The Shame Is Overwhelming.

It Is Madness. And If You Don't Know Who You Are, Or If Your Real Self Has Drifted Away From You With The Undertow, Madness At Least Gives You An Identity. It's The Same With Self-loathing. You're Probably Just Normal And Normal-looking But That's Not A Real Identity, Not The Way Ugliness Is. Normality, Just Accepting That You're Probably Normal-looking, Lacks The Force Field Of Self-disgust. If You Don't Know Who You Are, Madness Gives You Something To Believe In.

No One Ever Loved You Like Him. And No One Ever Took It Away So Completely. But It's Here. Look Around.

I Think That's Such A Beautiful Sentiment. Love Should Only Last As Long As A Very Expensive And Impractical Bikini That Looks Stunning, But Dissolves In The Sea Within Days. So Many Pop Songs Tell Of This Terrible, Tiresome Love That They Want To Last Forever. But That Just Makes Me Think Of Long-life Milk, Acrid And Fake. Love Should Be Like A Movie Trailer. Even If The Film's A Stinker, You Get The Best Laughs And The Biggest Explosions In The Space Of Two Minutes.

If You Don't Know Who You Are, Madness Gives You Something To Believe In.