I'm Not Crazy Or Dangerous,

But I Saw The Pain And Sadness In Everything, And Swirled It Round My Mouth Like A Fine Wine.

It's As If He Can No Longer Acknowledge The Love He Felt Or The Pain I Am In. I Have Been Dismissed. I Don't Think I Was Smarter Or As Beautiful As The Other Girls He Did This To. It's Just That I Was Me. It Was All I Had.

It Is Madness. And If You Don't Know Who You Are, Or If Your Real Self Has Drifted Away From You With The Undertow, Madness At Least Gives You An Identity. It's The Same With Self-loathing. You're Probably Just Normal And Normal-looking But That's Not A Real Identity, Not The Way Ugliness Is. Normality, Just Accepting That You're Probably Normal-looking, Lacks The Force Field Of Self-disgust. If You Don't Know Who You Are, Madness Gives You Something To Believe In.

When I Am In A Relationship, I Don’t Wear Lipstick At All. I Hate The Smearing, The Retouching, The Constant Throb Of Phoniness As You Surreptitiously Check The Damage In Your Compact Between Kisses. I Wear Lots Of Mascara To Compensate, Different Colors So I Don’t Get Bored. When I Am About To Break Up With A Guy, He Has Full Warning Because I Start Wearing Lipstick Again.

Now That He's Gone, I Feel Like I'm A Senior Citizen Who Gave Away Her Life Savings Over The Phone. And This Is The Crux: I Never In My Life Believed In Someone As Much As I Believed In Him. The Shame Is Overwhelming.