I grew up aware of all the people I depended on and who depended on me.

I've never gotten over high school, to the extent that I'm still a little surprised that my friends want to hang out with me.

It is completely usual for me to get up in the morning, take a look around, and laugh out loud.

A writer's occupational hazard: I think of eavesdropping as minding my business.

Perhaps growing up meant we put our knives away and feigned ignorance of the damage.

What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive. You keep your eyes open, you see this damned-to-hell world you got born into, and you ask yourself, 'What life can I live that will let me breathe in & out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods?

I considered her my ally, because, like me, she was imperfect.