What Is Plucked Will Grow Again, What

Avicenna California...museum Of My Twisted Youth, Vault Of My Dearest And Most Disgusting Memories.

We Are Not Always What We Seem, And Hardly Ever What We Dream.

I Am Afraid! It Is Not Starving I Fear, Or Talking To People, Or Even Being Alone. But I Cannot Bear To Be Useless And Ineffectual. There Must Be Some Meaning To Me, If Not To My Life; There Must Surely Be Some Purpose That Has My Name Written On It. If This Is Not So, If I Am Deceiving Myself About This Too, Then Why Should I Want To Become Real? What Reason Have I To Live Anywhere?

..no Meal Is Good Enough To Justify All The Money And Effort Wasted In Preparing It. It Is An Illusion And An Expense. Live As I Do, Undeceived.

I Know How To Live Here, I Know How Everything Smells, And Tastes, And Is. What Could I Ever Search For In The World, Except This Again?