There Is No Room In My Body

People Don't Remember Me. Really. It's Not A Paranoid Thing; I Just Have This Habit Of Slipping Through Memories. It Doesn't Bother Me All That Much, Except I Guess That's A Lie; It Does. For Some Reason, I Test Very High On Forgettability.

I Seemed Busy, Busy, Busy, But I Suppose, If Pressed, I Might Have Admitted That, For All My Frenzy, I Was Very Much Alone.

This Is My Favorite Book In All The World, Though I Have Never Read It.

Look, Are You Just Fiddling Around With Me Or What?" "i Just Want You To Feel You're Doing Well. I Hate For People O Die Embarrassed.

I Can't Keep My Head Above Water One Minute To The Next: It's Not Just The Parties And The Goo-gooing With What's-her-name, I've Got The Decide How Long The Five Hundredth Anniversary Parade Is Going To Be And Where Does It Start And When Does It Start And Which Nobleman Gets To March In Front Of Which Other Nobleman So That Everyone's Still Speaking To Me At The End Of It, Plus I've Got A Wife To Murder And A Country To Frame For It, Plus I've Got To Get The War Going Once That's All Happened, And All This Is Stuff I've Got To Do Myself. Here's What It All Comes Down To: I'm Just Swamped, Ty.