I Think A Neurotic Learns

Of Course He Freaked Me Out. Of Course It's Nothing To Do With Me. But None Of That Matters. He Loved Me And Now He Doesn't. I Was Everything To Him And Now I Am Nothing.

I Think It's Sort Of The Hypothetical Point Where Communism And Fascism Meet. They Love Tragedy, And They Love Surface Beauty. You Just Watch It Play Out Over And Over In The Media. It Was The English Edition Of Glamour Who Were Looking For Stories Of Iraqi War Widows, But Specified That They Had To Be Attractive.

I Wouldn't Say That My Emotions Are Extreme. I'd Say They Are Committed. My Moods Are The Equivalent Of Madonna's Dancing: Inappropriate But All-out. If I'm Going To Be Sad, I Might As Well Be The Saddest A Girl Can Get. And If I'm Happy, I Want To Be The Happiest. The Trouble Is, I Feel Highs So Ecstatic That Just Being Normal Feels Like A Thousand-mile Drop And Being Unhappy Is Excruciating.

People Don't Know. We Don't Know Ourselves So We Tell Ourselves What We Really Know Is Other People. We Could Say The Depth Of Pain We Feel For The Lovers Who've Left Us Is Because We Knew Them So Well.

At Least You Know Where You Are With Blood. At Least Other People Can See It.