I Want To Be A Pretty Corpse.

I Sat With Him For Three Hours And We Did Not Exchange A Single Word. At The End He Handed Me, As He Had Done Before, An Envelope With Money In It. It Would Have Been Much Nicer If He Had Enclosed A Greeting Or A Loving Word. I Would Have Been So Pleased If He Had.

God, I Am Afraid He Won't Give Me His Answer Today. If Only Somebody Would Help Me - It Is All So Terribly Depressing.

There Is Only One Thing I Want. I Would Like To Be Seriously Ill, And To Hear Nothing More About Him For At Least A Week. Why Doesn't Something Happen To Me? Why Do I Have To Go Through All This? If Only I Had Never Set Eyes On Him!

I Have Now Reached The Happy Age Of 23. No, Happy Is Not Quite The Right Word. At This Particular Moment I Am Certainly Not Happy.

I Want To Be A Pretty Corpse.