We Walk The Plank With Strangers.

I Get Into A Rut, Unable To Yank My Mind Out Of It.

I Wondered What I Thought I Was Burying.

I Suppose I'll Always Be Over-vulnerable, Slightly Paranoid.

I Felt Dumb And Subdued. Every Time I Tried To Concentrate, My Mind Glided Off, Like A Skater, Into A Large Empty Space, And Pirouetted There, Absently.

That Afternoon My Mother Had Brought Me The Roses. "save Them For My Funeral," I'd Said.