And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
Go out and do something. It isnโt your room thatโs a prison, itโs yourself.
You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.
I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.