Life is an incurable condition: the only known treatment is to try to keep the patient comfortable.

I have nothing definite to apologize for; I'm just sorry about everything in general.

My life shows a clear pattern of total unpredictability.

Thanks to my computer, I have now achieved a much higher state of disorganization.

The task I've been given seems absurd: To wait here on earth until I no longer exist.

My social life is much better, since I stopped spending it with other people.

Keep some souvenirs of your past, or how will you ever prove it wasn't all a dream?