I'm Not Crazy Or Dangerous, Just A

You’re Like Marilyn Monroe,’ Ken Tells Me, Which I Take As A Compliment And Say A Nervous “thank You”. Interrupting, He Adds, ‘you’re All Velvet And Velcro. Men Want You Because You’re Sexy And Broken And When It Gets Too Rough They Can Say “hey! This Toy Is Broken!” And Toss You Aside Without Feeling Bad.

Time Heals All Wounds. And If It Doesn't, You Name Them Something Other Than Wounds And Agree To Let Them Stay.

I Do Think Everything That Happens In American Pop Culture Sort Of Prescribes For England And Does End Up Happening There Six Months Later, Maybe A Year.

When I Was Younger I Loved Betty Blue, And At The Moment I'm Completely Besotted With Angelina Jolie. But Sometimes I'm Unnerved By The Idea Of Men Liking Her. Because I Think That There Is A Side To Every Man That Really Wants To Watch A Woman Fall Apart.

It Is Madness. And If You Don't Know Who You Are, Or If Your Real Self Has Drifted Away From You With The Undertow, Madness At Least Gives You An Identity. It's The Same With Self-loathing. You're Probably Just Normal And Normal-looking But That's Not A Real Identity, Not The Way Ugliness Is. Normality, Just Accepting That You're Probably Normal-looking, Lacks The Force Field Of Self-disgust. If You Don't Know Who You Are, Madness Gives You Something To Believe In.