How I feel is cheap and used, dirty and humiliated. Dirty and tricked and thrown away.

That’s the American Dream: to make your life into something you can sell.

It can only take a moment to waste the rest of your life.

We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it's our job to invent something better.

It's not enough to be numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky.

Are these things really better than the things I already have? Or am I just trained to be dissatisfied with what I have now?

They're just words is all. Powerless. Vocabulary. Dialogue.