My Pleasures Disappeared With My Vices.

But You're Beautiful, And The Beautiful Should Be Given Whatever They Want." "hey, What About The Ugly Ones?" "the Ugly Ones." She Poked Her Tongue Out. "it's Their Fault If Their Ugly. They're To Be Blamed, Not Pitied.

All The Same, My Depression And Self-hatred, My Desire To Mutilate Myself With Broken Bottles, My Numbness And Crying Fits, My Inability To Get Out Of Bed For Days And Days, The Feeling Of The World Moving In To Crush Me, Went On And On. But I Knew I Wouldn't Go Mad, Even If That Release, That Letting-go, Was A Freedom I Desired. I Was Waiting For Myself To Heal.

Almost Certainly I Will Not Tell Her My Intentions This Evening Or Tonight. I Will Put It Off. Why? Because Words Are Actions And They Make Things Happen. Once They Are Out You Cannot Put Them Back.

If Jealousy Was The Vindaloo Of Love, I'd Imagined Her Tongue Burning, And Such A Fire Forcing Her To Spill Her Truth.

Security And Safety Were The Reward Of Dullness.