For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.
Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God
Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.
And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.
I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end.