My Pleasures Disappeared With My Vices.

Falling In Love Was Simple; One Had Only To Yield. Digesting Another Person, However, And Sustaining Love, Was Bloody Work, And Not A Soft Job.

Why Do People Who Are Good At Families Have To Be Smug And Assume It Is The Only Way To Live. … Why Can’t They Be Blamed For Being Bad At Promiscuity?

But You're Beautiful, And The Beautiful Should Be Given Whatever They Want." "hey, What About The Ugly Ones?" "the Ugly Ones." She Poked Her Tongue Out. "it's Their Fault If Their Ugly. They're To Be Blamed, Not Pitied.

All The Same, My Depression And Self-hatred, My Desire To Mutilate Myself With Broken Bottles, My Numbness And Crying Fits, My Inability To Get Out Of Bed For Days And Days, The Feeling Of The World Moving In To Crush Me, Went On And On. But I Knew I Wouldn't Go Mad, Even If That Release, That Letting-go, Was A Freedom I Desired. I Was Waiting For Myself To Heal.

My Father Was A Civil Servant, So Having A Regular Job, Being Respectable Is A Big Deal For Me. Respectable In The Sense That I Support My Family. That's What I Mean By Respectability.