"Dear Mother, I meant to write you before this and I hope you haven't been worried.... I have met some Beautiful People and..."

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Fear that I was very different from everyone else. Fear that deep down inside I was a shallow fraud, that after the revolution or after Jesus came down to straighten everything out, everyone from hippies to hard-hats would unfold and blossom into the beautiful people they were while I would remain a gnarled little wart in the corner, oozing bile and giving off putrid smells.

— Mark Vonnegut