I depleted myself to the point where I had nothing left.
I suppose I have a highly developed capacity for self-delusion, so it's no problem for me to believe that I'm somebody else.
I spend many months in apparently listless rumination out of which I hope something will emerge.
I broke things to get attention.
I live in a landscape, which every single day of my life is enriching.
I am more greatly moved by people who struggle to express themselves...I prefer the abstract concept of incoherence in the face of great feeling to beautiful, full sentences that convey little emotion.