How to get lost.

I'm damaged stock, write me off with a big D stamped on my forehead and mail me to the junk yard. In the yard there'll be someone just as broken, just as hurt and lonesome, and we'll find something in common and make something so beautiful it seems whole.

I like the idea of that junk yard, though it seems a rather impossible feat when you think of how many things are fractured and not yet willing to create new merchandise.

Or, I could continue to lend myself wholly to others and watch my iridescent facade grow to a magnitude so large and so pompous that I seem as though I am truly happy, and I seem as though I am truly whole, and seem as though I am truly in love. Perhaps I will, indeed, let that facade grow so big, and so large, and so gargantuan, that I will appear to be self-confident, trust-worthy, and lovable.