I couldn't care less.
Now I've just finished it. In a week or so. The book, I mean. It made me sick. it made me cry. It made me forget everything beyond turning the pages over. I liked that.
IO know what the problem is. Was. And will be. As soon as you read all the stuff I write, you're ready to see some tough life-stricken guy. Silent and self-conscious. I'm really like that. As soon as I'm on my own. Completely alone.
As soon as you meet me, you provide me the company of yours and I may dart off to a chatter-spree, all mannered and well-bred and polite and hell knows how pleasant altogether. You think I'm faking. Either way.
I'm not. You just see me as a lonely person I hate and as a sociable person I hardly ever have the chance of being full-time. A Jekyll-Hyde thing. As simple as that.
And you leave. And trust neither side of me. Because you think I'm just putting it on.
That's a Larry Underwood syndrome, that of the guy I just finished reading about. "The Stand" guy. He wound up in the epicentre of the A-bomb blast, still pulling his shit together.
Should I?
IO know what the problem is. Was. And will be. As soon as you read all the stuff I write, you're ready to see some tough life-stricken guy. Silent and self-conscious. I'm really like that. As soon as I'm on my own. Completely alone.
As soon as you meet me, you provide me the company of yours and I may dart off to a chatter-spree, all mannered and well-bred and polite and hell knows how pleasant altogether. You think I'm faking. Either way.
I'm not. You just see me as a lonely person I hate and as a sociable person I hardly ever have the chance of being full-time. A Jekyll-Hyde thing. As simple as that.
And you leave. And trust neither side of me. Because you think I'm just putting it on.
That's a Larry Underwood syndrome, that of the guy I just finished reading about. "The Stand" guy. He wound up in the epicentre of the A-bomb blast, still pulling his shit together.
Should I?