"Yes o yes, but I am weary, too weary to speak, write, or think" I wish I could change the way you look at me. I wish I could change the way I feel. I wish I knew how to quit you. I wish I knew how to quit. So there. Struck by the give up urge I wish I could just walk away. Say to the world and all these people in it, you can't have me. If I'm not mine than I'm certainly not yours. I wish I was other than I am. I wish I was content. Bowled over by a disaster of intimate proportions, I am visionless. And I wish someone would touch me. I wish someone could touch me. I wish I was free or I wish I was bought. Waiting is wearing, and rarely bears fruit. And I am a dramatic young thing, but I don't care, I don't care, I don't care. People change very little as they age. I just have fewer calluses or what-not. And I am aware. Aware that this too shall pass, but maybe I don't want that. Maybe I'm tired of waiting for things to pass, Because that is all people do, isn't it? Wait. Something better'll come. The awfulness isn't permanent. And that’s true. That’s true. But it is recurring. And I don't know what I'm saying, but I do. And I don't know whom I'm saying this to. But I want to give up and I want to give in. And I would like to take a rest, but I'm afraid of bad dreams. But we all wish this don't we? I wish people would just be honest with each other. I wish I was honest. I wish someone loved me like I want to be loved. Wishing is something I still do because I'm ever so young. I think I'm a beautiful creature when no one is watching. I love you. I love you all. "All ridiculous. In worry I do nothing."