There were lines in the palms of my hands. I have to be careful from now on; in what I do, I mean. People want to find out what’s inside my head, but I never find out what’s in theirs. I’ve made mistakes telling people things that are too private, too personal. Things I shouldn’t tell anyone. Just yet. There is daylight and there is pain. There is sorrow and not much laughter. Let me in, I hear them cry, but I don’t want to let them in because it won’t last. When I let them in, I let them in and I never throw them out. My biggest failing is patience. I will hold on. And hold on. Maybe one day they’ll remember me. I’m always here. Is that my failing? There were lines in the palms of my hands.
Last modified: 20 May 1997
