I Am Certain A Great Many Believers

Curses Of Vanished Elders Echoed Down On Me; Too Pretty, Too Soft, Too Pale, Eyes Far Too Full Of The Devil, Ah, That Devilish Smile

Don't Let The Old Story Repeat Itself Now. Arm Yourself With All That's Happened.

God, What Is It Like To Be You And Hear All Those People All The Time Everywhere, Begging, Imploring, Calling Out For Anything And Anyone?

You Sense My Loneliness, (...) My Bitterness At Being Shut Out Of Life. My Bitterness That I'm Evil, That I Don't Deserve To Be Loved And Yet I Need Love Hungrily. My Horror That I Can Never Reveal Myself To Mortals. But These Things Don't Stop Me, Mother. I'm Too Strong For Them To Stop Me. As You Said Yourself Once, I Am Very Good At Being What I Am. These Things Merely Now And Then Make Me Suffer, That's All

How Pathetic It Is To Describe These Things Which Can't Truly Be Described.