Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

I felt the first man I slept with must be intelligent, so I could respect him.

I’ll never speak to God again.

But they know. They all know. And what am I against so many…?

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world.