If I didn't think, I'd be much happier; if I didn't have any sex organs, I wouldn't waver on the brink of nervous emotion and tears all the time.
I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks.
Worse even than your maddening song, your silence.
I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.
A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.