I wish to cry. Yet$$$ I laugh$$$ and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.

Then I decided I would spend the summer writing a novel. That would fix a lot of people.

Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die$$$ or so nervous I can't sleep$$$ or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week$$$ I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.'

I am jealous of those who think more deeply$$$ who write better$$$ who draw better$$$ who ski better$$$ who look better$$$ who live better$$$ who love better than I.

At twenty I tried to die<br>And get back$$$ back$$$ back to you.<br>I thought even the bones would do.

I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.

I am too pure for you or anyone.

How can you be so many women to so many strange people$$$ oh you strange girl?

So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed$$$ and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.

If I didn't think$$$ I'd be much happier; if I didn't have any sex organs$$$ I wouldn't waver on the brink of nervous emotion and tears all the time.