When Two People Are Meant To Be

I Just Think I'm Better Equipped To Make A Study Of Human Personality Than Trying To Get Into The Mind Of Animals.

Keeping Up The Appearance Of Having All Your Marbles Is Hard Work, But Important.

I Cling To My Anger With Every Ounce Of Humanity Left In My Ruined Body, But It's No Use. It Slips Away, Like A Wave From Shore. I Am Pondering This Sad Fact When I Realize The Blackness Of Sleep Is Circling My Head. It's Been There Awhile, Biding It's Time And Growing Closer With Each Revolution. I Give Up On Rage, Which At This Point Has Become A Formality, And Make A Mental Note To Get Angry Again In The Morning. Then I Let Myself Drift, Because There's Really No Fighting It.

I Am Ninety. Or Ninety-three. One Or The Other.

The Whole Thing's Illusion, [jacob], And There's Nothing Wrong With That. It's What People Want From Us. It's What They Expect.