If You Don't Know Who You Are,

People Don't Know. We Don't Know Ourselves So We Tell Ourselves What We Really Know Is Other People. We Could Say The Depth Of Pain We Feel For The Lovers Who've Left Us Is Because We Knew Them So Well.

I Envied Women With Signature Hair-dos, Signature Perfumes, Signature Sign-offs. Novelists Who Tell Vogue Magazine: “i Can’t Live Without My Smythson Notebook, Pomegranate Noir Cologne By Jo Malone And Frette Sheets”. In The Grip Of Madness, Materialism Begins To Look Like An Admirable Belief System.

When I Am In A Relationship, I Don’t Wear Lipstick At All. I Hate The Smearing, The Retouching, The Constant Throb Of Phoniness As You Surreptitiously Check The Damage In Your Compact Between Kisses. I Wear Lots Of Mascara To Compensate, Different Colors So I Don’t Get Bored. When I Am About To Break Up With A Guy, He Has Full Warning Because I Start Wearing Lipstick Again.

You Want To Know, But Are Afraid To Ask, Whether Or Not I Found Someone. If There Could Be Anyone To Fill That Hole In My Heart After I Lost Him. I Did. "life Is Futile," Says My New Therapist, Michaela, "and No One Gets Out Of It Alive. There Is Only Love.

I Want You To Stay. I Never Want There To Be A Time When We Don't Share Space.