Life Is A Cruel, Horrible Joke And

He's A Very Strange Guy, My Father. I Can't Get Mad At Him Because He's So Adorable.

Part Of My Gestalt Is That I Still Feel A Little Bit Like A Wallflower. Even In My Own Life. I Talk About Myself Behind My Back.

You Know How I Always Seem To Be Struggling, Even When The Situation Doesn't Call For It?

Sometimes I Feel Like I've Got My Nose Pressed Up Against The Window Of A Bakery, Only I'm The Bread.

I Think That Now Most People Know Someone In Their Family That Is Coping With Something, But There Is Still A Tremendous Amount Of Shame - That One Is Still Regarded As A Defective Unit ... If Only They Would Pull Up Their Bootstraps - They Are Only Indulging Their Emotions, Everybody's Moody, Blah, Blah, Blah.