The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus "Not me! I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.

Nobody's talking to me, but nobody's hassling me either. I guess you can't have everything.

How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?

My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.

I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.