It has always been, “Next time,” for me, and I fear that, if the pattern continues, it will never be this time. I’ll run my course just standing in a line that is never going to move and that—well, let’s face it, everyone who has gotten through, have any of them waited?
But what else can I do? I ask myself. Where else can I go? Is there any place for me where I will not be a slave?
I have no love; there have been too many disappointments for that. My whole life, really, is just a disappointment.
Tale Told 