I Regret How Much I

She Was Like A Drowning Person, Flailing, Reaching For Anything That Might Save Her. Her Life Was An Urgent, Desperate Struggle To Justify Her Life.

We Spent Our Lives Making Livings.

They Do Not Desire Anything More Than Everything They Have Known.

How Did Her Life Live Itself Without Her.

I Wouldn't Want A Boy To Think I Was Pretty Unless He Was The Kind Of Boy Who Thought I Was Pretty.