It's weird, I was such a survivor and so wanted to be a part of life while I was trying to snuff out the life that was inside of me. I had this duality of trying to kill myself with drugs, then eating really good food and exercising and going swimming and trying to be a part of life. I was always going back and forth on some level.

This Life is More than Just a read through.

Just the kind of girl I liked—the weirdo in the bunch.

I had to educate him that there was no such thing as writer's block, that writers write when they write, and when they don't, they don't.

My sobriety isn't up for discussion, but as for vices, I seem to hack away at them with my invisible machete from dawn till dusk. The vice of 'more' is an ongoing theme.

It was because all we wanted was each other's constant love and attention and for no one else to receive that love and attention, which is a selfish and difficult place to be in a relationship. We were emotionally retarded, and that was the best we could do at the time.

I think I'm still figuring out how to be a little less selfish.