I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

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

Lying - remembering beauty in truth.

one day I'll be old, without ever having really been young

I'm partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing. Sometimes I think we're all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don't like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don't want to be a robot!

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