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Footnotes: The whole point of this page is to dwell on the time and the place like an Emily Dickenson novel. I'm guessing at the name Emily Dickenson and i've never read any of her stuff, but i've heard its prosaic. I the Mill On The Floss. Its supposed to be gentle, timeless. again it helps if the anatomy is good. I find it hard to read my comics like one would that has never seen them before. I say that because I read peoples stuff thats terrible but because of that it becomes even better, like the actual art doesn't matter, its the content and the substance, and I hope that comes through here. Its becoming more and more obvious to me what youth is all about. Only the younger people can walk about like idiots in love. For the old people its fucked, and I missed the boat. It just didn't happen to me and I hate that. I hate actually reading this story because it didn't happen. I read loads of stuff and you can sense it, the truth, the putrity. I can remember reading a story about a guy that walked out in a storm, but it started with him and his girl in a room and there was something so still and sad about it all, it really touched me. I was younger, but it was a beautiful story. I lost it along time ago. It was a comic with 1 age short stories, one of which was a semi photo collage of the Greatful Deads song Box Of Rain or maybe it was a different one, but thats why I drew Box Of Rain. I feel like i'm writing my will. I love drawing, and I love reading my material, but I cant stand the pain of all that I have lost. Not only have I not got love or what I always wanted, but i'm now starting to pange for my youth, my lost youth. Its strange. I keep wanting to go back and prod myself, when I was alive and get myself to do somthing to change my situation, but I really dont know what I could do. Things are different for children. I would want to prod myself so that I had loads of friends, or prod myself so that I was happy, or prod myself so that I knew loads of girls, but you cant just do that. To say, oh, I wish i'd gone to the pub more is stupid because I would have just got drunk and depressed. It all seems futile. Even the notion of all I ever did, all the scrimping and saving I did to better my life, to get what I wanted and in fact I was loosing everything, my youth. Its terrible thinking about it. But thats that. There was no sunny day for me. No love or romance, no late summer evenings or blustry winter days, nothing but shit and enemies and fighting and pain and fucking retards.