Tell her I was young once and star-brightWho am now invisible . . .
And suffering we know breeds images, it breeds the most beautiful images of all.
I know girls aren't supposed to tell, but I've got to tell—just in case you should fail to love me because you never knew how much I loved you. I want not to have to say later—I wish I'd told him.
I want you to be able to me, and as my love for you is so much of me (all of me, making me more than myself) then you must see that too.
I can't tell you—oh I can't tell you—how awful—how sort of unlivable—everything is now—like a great black wall in front of me—Something's got to smash.
You see, nobody cares about me except you. You don't know what that's like. You've always had people who cared. You've always had . I've never had anybody. No wonder I feel frustrated.
You're doing your thing, why can't I do my thing? I must be me even if I suffer for it.