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

They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

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.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

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

The complete bottom has fallen out 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.