You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?

God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.

As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin; I am I. That stone is a stone. My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over.

Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.

I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love.