Christ. Everything is wrong as far as I am concerned socially, with Jane especially. Clothes. Shit. What a goddam problem. I want a new shirt so GODDAM bad. Mom's GOTTA let me get it. Shit, Jane's got so many more clothes than me it just makes me feel like an ill-dressed lout. And shoes. Jesus H. Christ. I have one pair of shoes. They are all right for every day use but, God, when I get on a pair of dress slacks for a party or a date or a dance or something, they look like hell. And I won't be able to get another pair until Christmas or so. Lord. And now. Mom and Dad put a limit on talking on the phone. 15 fucking minutes. Shit a brick. It kills me. The only damn thing, just about, that I have for my own pleasure that doesn't already have a goddam limit on it. Dates do. Clothes do. Nights out do. Number of sports I can go out for during one year does. Crap. I really, really, really enjoyed those long evening talks with Jane. One of the high spots in our relationship. And now - gone. I loved it so much, no lie, I did. I got such a kick out of it, talking to her, getting things straightened out, telling her things, listening to her talk, being frank. Oh God. And they, they, the bastards, took this away. This that meant so goddam much. What right do they have to do that to me? What the hell did I do to deserve all this? No pleasures unlimited. It's horrible. Something's coming for me and as I get older it gets closer and its hot breath breathes on me hotter, harder, and finally it will devour me.