September 9, 1999
I’m getting cold, sitting here in the shadow of my life. Those sensational moments of triumph postponed till the morrow, whilst I reminisce on the power of performing, seeming so distant in the past. And now, when I am supposed to feel my most bountiful, I am trapped by the confines of a pregnant woman’s body, forced by circumstance to endure a job serving the selfish. I am subject to harassment and ridicule ere once I was admired. And what the world calls decency, I perceive as poverty. Powerless and pregnant. How can something so wonderful be so negated by this world, which I so wish to escape?