It is June. I am tired of being brave.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.

I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.

All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.

Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.

Don’t worry if they say you’re crazy. They said that about me and yet I was saner than all of them. I knew. No matter. You know. Insane or sane, you know. It’s a good thing to know - no matter what they call it.