Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - - like a disease of the blood, dispersed throughout the body so that one cannot locate the matrix, the spot of contagion.
If I didnโt think, Iโd be much happier.
I felt wise and cynical as all hell.
I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
It was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didnโt matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.