I'm not always funny. Not everything I do is intended to make people laugh. I'm not always smiling. And all those things that everyone seems to so love about me aren't always pleasant either. Not being able to rid myself of a notion or thought or image isn't cute. It's troublesome. Not sleeping and nervous tics and neurosis aren't things I maintain just to have an anecdote for the peanut gallery. Most of the things that have so endeared me to people make me miserable. Tears are the truest thing I produce. I wish I were someone else. I wish that I could enjoy something without having to make it a part of who I am. All those things for which I harbor disdain make me the person people can tolerate. But it isn't always funny and it isn't always cute. And it isn't an easy wound to dress when everyone patronizes me.