texts: Sorry.  </s> <s> Well it's more than loneliness. Hate. People hating me -- and watching me and following and waiting to hurt me -- you know? I'm all screwed up. </s> <s> You think people hate you.
labels: The truth is I hate them: they must hate me. All right, the money.  All right, not the money. A kind of put-on. It gets things back together.  Well let's say I'd go to one of these cattle-calls, a tryout. I mean before -- before I got this job -- and they'd always say thank you very much and i'd feel, you know, brought down. They didn't want me.