I Hid My Underwear Beneath A Parked

From Age 23 To 44 - I'm 45 Now - I Was Always In Need Of Money, And I Was Especially In Need Of It From 23 To About 34, And My Great Aunt Would Always Give Me Money, A Hundred Bucks, Every Two Months Or So, And A Lot Of Times That Hundred Bucks Made A Huge Difference - I Could Eat Or Pay A Small Bill. It Kept Me Going. She Gave Me Money. It Was Very Loving.

The Real Self And The Public Self Are Intertwined, Like A Tumor Around An Organ, And You Can't Cut The Tumor Or You'll Kill The Organ, So They Live Together, Until The Tumor Chokes The Organ Off - But Which Self Is The Tumor?. Or It's Like Something Out Of Star Trek. The Borg.

Nothing Wrong With Changing Your Mind. That's A Very Unwaffling Thing To Say: "nothing Wrong..." Who Am I To Say That There's Nothing Wrong With It? Maybe Something Is Wrong With Changing Your Mind. Anyway, Love Is Very, Very Difficult. I Love. But Probably Because I Hate Myself On Some Deep, Sick Level, It Makes Loving Difficult. But I Do Try.

People Don't Expect Too Much From Literature. They Just Want To Know They're Not Alone With Being Confused.

I Am Always The Source Of The Worst Rumors About Myself.