I’m Not Interested In Being Polite. It’s

You Are Truly Satan's Sequined Spawn.

There’s A Moment Of Profound Sadness That Can Be Dispelled Only By Summoning My Anger.

The World Expected Girls To Pluck And Primp And Put On Heels. Meanwhile, Boys Dressed In Rumpled T-shirts And Baggy Pants And Misplace Their Combs, And Yet You Were Suppose To Fall At Their Feet? Unacceptable.

It Is Funny How You Do Not Miss Affection Until It Is Given, But Once It Is, It Can Never Be Enough; You Would Drown In It If Possible.

Simon, Would You Still Care For Me If You Discovered I Was Not Who I Say I Am?" What Do You Mean?" I Mean Would You Still Care For Me, No Matter What You Came To Know?" What A Thing To Ponder. I Don't Know What To Say." The Answer Is No. He Does Not Need To Say It. With A Sigh, Simon Digs At The Fire With The Iron Poker. Bits Of The Charred Log Fall Away, Revealing The Angry Insides. They Flare Orange For A Moment, Then Quiet Down Again. After Three Tries, He Gives Up. I'm Afraid This Fire's Had It." I Can See A Few Embers Remaining. "no, I Think Not. If..." He Sighs, And It Says Everything.