4/9/20 my psychiatrist asks me about the worst trauma i've ever experienced. i answer: --. and when did you get over that, she asks. the room is stale. she smells of onions. i'm not trying to be mean when i say that. it's only the truth. also true: my first pet was a hermit crab. my mother's name is mona. in march, certain flowers bloom. soup is very filling, as are all hot liquids. my point is that anna's family owned a vineyard. for her birthday we played hide-and-seek. miles and miles of grapes, one could get lost in them. i never liked that game--i don't like being left alone or being frightened. even worse: searching for someone who doesn't want to be found by you. there are so many movies i haven't seen with people who no longer speak to me. i guess that answers the question. which was? which was. i'm forgetting again. in order to be loved you must make yourself scarce. no one loves you the other way.