For all the superlatives, the I Never and the I Always, and its always been so hard for me to take a flattery. I mean a compliment. Just kidding, I really did mean a flattery. Because I am no man's Garance, despite the fact that lots of men want to be the Criminal, well, except the Criminal, that is, but that's because he gets bored of everyone eventually. And I'm so fucking into ironic detachment and the womanly art of speaking only when spoken of and there are some days I wish that I wasn't an actress (with whom no one can identify.) Does there even exist a pet name that hasn't already been used on pets from the past? Because I don't like to think of who was me before I was and I don't mean that in a creepy religious way, either. And even secreter is this: in the escapism of rainy day traffic, I sometimes like to quietly pretend like there is no one else out there like me; or at least that I am not like anyone else out there. Luckily, I am super sane, otherwise the contradiction would kill me. And even though I wear prescription eyes, I see too easily the pockmarks and the seams and the prestidigitation in the commoditization of concepts like love, forever, courage, etc. et al., that is being hawked by the people, for the people. And we are all charlatans. All of us.

Why bother? I find that answering that question it is a task to which I must apply the same earnestness a moron adopts when running repeatedly head first into a brick goddamn wall.

Does it really make me feel better knowing that I tried? And, if so, what does that say about my sense of conviction?