i don't know what i want from life because everyone else's pictures are glowing and look full of a promise not given or specified in a direction that i may intercede or expect to find myself in. i don't know what i want for tomorrow except for one sweet thing like a piece of chocolate and the prospect of waking up in a cold room knowing that it was supposed to be cold and that in the winters it will always be cold and that one bulb in the lamp on the ceiling is supposed to be broken.

i don't know what i want from anyone because everyone will ask one thing from me and then ask for another and ask for the same things that cannot concur with the others and will ask me to forsake one person for another and could never be solved through logic but i should only ask him and myself, just who is the greater liar between us.

i don't know what i want from my evenings because i had a drink almost every night of the weekend and wondered why i do not like men with curly hair and wondered why i suddenly feel so unsatisfied about driving home alone. i don't know how these hours passed when nothing happened and how i managed to get from one half of the state to the other without realizing that anything moved or that i could think about five hundred things but never think about anything important.

i don't know what i want from life because he said one thing and she said the other and all the doubts are like the dark smoke cinders in a pool of burning glass breathing quietly in its beautiful scalding danger.