So much ugliness, so many nerves just barely exposed, so much disappointment, so many hostile people projecting their paranoid delusions onto the blank canvas of my life which is all I want to give out any more. I have a weakness for situations where someone tells me we will have a wonderful life together if only we can meet in person or carry on our torrid correspondence between the sheets of my bed for more than just a weekend. This weekend, for no sensible reason, I started responding to e-mail messages people had sent me back in 1993 and 1994. And in the morning, a lot of people had written back. I have become defiantly distant from all people.
Personal questions warrant a common sarcastic retort.
People suggesting they can see through me, who think they know me or who presume anything about me become outcasts. This is becoming genuinely incoherent.