There are times when I feel that nothing, no one, none of my friends, no piece of music, no movie, no food, no drink, no amount of rest, no target or source of love, nothing, will ever improve my life, nothing will ever get better, and all the happy and positive elements of my life will always remain, inside and underneath, vague abstractions desperately cobbled together from pieces of reality that of themselves mean nothing.
That’s the way it sometimes feels, all right. Life, a piece of toast, fallen butter side down, and I would not eat dust.

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