...

"as in our letters" says the comrade and brings herself back to these lines again. my notion of greatness in life of love and hate and friendship and all, i do wish at times i wasn't who i am, that i was different, perhaps easier, less self-indulgent, less needy, and less child like. then i remember i am all those things, and i can not change them now. so i drop a vain tear at the prospect of a roaring friendship had I been a different person.