It's not me but the world that's deranged.

Strong and independent? I’m neither. I’m just being pushed along by reality, whether I like it or not.

Fate seems to be taking me in some even stranger directions.

Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg.

Many are the women who can take their clothes off seductively, but women who can charm as they dress?

I think of myself as more the non-turn-on type. so when I do get turned on, I don’t trust it, I have to investigate the source.

No matter where i go, i still end up me. What's missing never changes. The scenery may change, but i'm still the same incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that i can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as i'll come to defining myself.