“None of you appreciate me. Why is it so hard to believe that I could make a real contribution in these dark rimes?”
“Real life oppressed me with its novelty so much that I could hardly breathe.”
“It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.”
“I will not compare myself with others, nor them with me. I will appreciate myself and others for what I and they contribute.”
“I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor so you could stomp on it.”
“Why did you make me?" you said."I made you so that I could love you," I said.”