I Wish To Cry. Yet, I Laugh,

The Man Creates A Pseudonym And Hides Behind It Like A Worm

…i Hate Myself For Not Being Able To Go Downstairs Naturally And Seek Comfort In Numbers. I Hate Myself For Having To Sit Here And Be Torn Between I Know Not What Within Me.

Everything In Life Is Writable.

Wear Your Heart On Your Skin In This Life.

I Had Decided I Would Put Off The Novel Until I Had Gone To Europe And Had A Lover.