Is the life I lead really reduced to the wrinkles in the time and space of my palm? And if so, then what do they all mean, and why do they form the hopeless patterns that they do? And do they really mean something? And do the bluish veins that resemble the bruises on my battered knees symbolize something just like authors make it seem? What do i symbolize? What do I stand for?

I haven't found something to stand up for yet. And I say this wanting no pity or looks of contempt. I ask to know. Simply to know. And for those who need to make my every word a circus, all I can say is...

Fuck you.

-S