I Had Become A Perfect

I Stood Up. It Was All Too Much. I Could Not Even Meet My Own Expectations, And To Be Asked To Deal With All Theirs Too Was Suffocating.

Perhaps Because I'll Never Be One, Humans Are Interesting To Me.

Anybody Can Be Charming If They Don't Mind Faking It, Saying All The Stupid, Obvious, Nauseating Things That A Conscience Keeps Most People From Saying. Happily, I Don't Have A Conscience. I Say Them.

What To Wear? I Could Think Of No Guidelines On What We Were Wearing This Season To A Party Forced On You To Celebrate An Unwanted Engagement That Might Turn Into A Violent Confrontation With A Vengeful Maniac. Clearly Brown Shoes Were Out, But Beyond That Nothing Really Seemed De Rigueur.

Whatever Made Me The Way I Am Left Me Hollow, Empty Inside, Unable To Feel. It Doesn't Seem Like A Big Deal. I'm Quite Sure Most People Fake An Awful Lot Of Everyday Human Contact. I Just Fake It All. I Fake It Very Well, And The Feelings Are Never There.