I'm tired of pretending I'm not special.
Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber.
The run I was on made Sinatra, Flynn, Jagger, Richards, all of them look like droopy-eyed armless children.
You have this great big fantasy life, and it looks like a non-stop 24/7 party. But what do you do when you get to the end of the Internet and there's nothing left to buy? There's just a picture of Wayne Newton flipping you off.
Fear is never a good enough reason to do nothing
I have a disease? Bullshit. I cured it with my brain.