If I think she' hot and it turns out she's a psychopath, then what does that say about me? I'm totally not ready for that kind of therapy.

If I think she' hot and it turns out she's a psychopath, then what does that say about me? I'm totally not ready for that kind of therapy.

Unreal. I'm feeling nostalgic for something that happened less than twenty-four hours ago. This has got to be a record.

A river of images and thoughts and feelings, dirtied and polluted so that no one could drink from it without gagging.

Jazz spent a chunk of the day fantasizing about ways to kill his grandmother, plotting them and planning them in the most excruciating, gruesome detail his imagination would allow. It turned out his imagination allowed quite a bit. He spent the rest of the day convincing himself--over and over--not to do it.

You can't rely on love. Love will let you down every time. Every. Single. Time. I don't love Jecca. I don't love Fanboy. But... God, the buts in life will kill you absolutely every time, won't they. I don't love. But I need. I can admit that to myself.

[She] was made up of skin and bones and hate and crazy, and hate and crazy don't weigh anything.