when they say her feet smell, they mean her nose.

It is just as likely that as I invent what I want to say, you will invent what you want to hear.

Gut Symmetries by Jeanette Winterson

wherever i am, that fucking dog goes.

a bit of madness shows that both nothing and everything have changed. and it's just different, but i don't know if it's better. not even this pouring rain is familiar in the long run. and then things will be like this always. oh Madness, how i adore thee.

it all turns shit so fast, faster than i can pretend.

we're not like you. we go to dirty old pubs, where lost men with their lost teeth reside. you can't really meet people there, but maybe we like the people we've already met. you don't really dance there, but if there's some live music and cheap alcohol, we will be the only ones dancing. we don't dance like you dance. it's not seductive or sleazy, it's just fun and silly and spontaneous.

we don't drink what you drink, specially made, fancy rainbow coloured bottled drinks. it's cheap, dirty, bad. whatever gives the fastest hit with the least amount of dollars, like paint junkies who can't afford the real thing.

and we don't think like you think. we think about flowers and tea, and cigarettes, and hurting. and we don't worry about what you worry about, school marks, or boyfriends or getting our hair wet. we worry about that we'll be if we lose each other, and we worry that maybe we really are nothing. i think that's what we're most afraid of. because we're not like you, and we're not afraid of dying.

sometimes i forget that i can feel things.

what a darling joint. marriage.

tea, and repetition, and dullness of the mind. each day there's less and less I need, less time awake.

there's an evil something going on, some emptiness, some dark hole that seems comforting. and as it promised, time creeps by, everyday that has nothing to show for itself.

the garden is so lovely and always there, even though it doesn't belong to anyone. i had such a surprisingly nice pot of tea today.

being no good at anything, makes me a waste of space really. today i ate a pizza, with smoked salmon, and tomato, and cheese. it was awful, and i didn't want to eat it, but i thought it was more nutritious than eating sheets of puff pastry covered in sugar.

every cigarette is doing you damage. how ridiculous.

everybody said i looked different at work today. i think that's just from being sad. but i didn't say that.