I didn't like anybody in that school. I think they knew that. I think that's why they disliked me. I didn't like the way they walked or looked or talked, but I didn't like my mother or father either. I still had the feeling of being surrounded by white empty space. There was always a slight nausea in my stomach.

They were beautiful nothings

Any asshole can chase a skirt, art takes discipline.

What a weary time those years were -- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.

she is no longer the beautiful woman she was. she sends photos of herself sitting upon a rock by the ocean alone and damned. I could have had her once. I wonder if she thinks I could have saved her?

I'm too careless. I don't put out enough effort. I'm tired.

The writing's easy, it's the living that is sometimes difficult.