This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?

The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.