Sometimes I feel like I've got my nose pressed up against the window of a bakery, only I'm the bread.

Nobody wants to read about a good-looking happy person.

I have a second dog, too, mainly for security.

It's very good to get through them (drugs) while you're still young and then talk about how great or bad it was for the rest of your life.

My fear is that I will be crushed in an elevator and my mother will get hold of my journals from my adolescence.

I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital.

So when I was 24, someone suggested to me that I was bipolar, and I thought that was ridiculous. I just thought he was trying to get out of treating me. But he was also responding to the chaotic nature of my life.