If Realism called it like it saw it, Metafiction simply called it as it saw itself seeing itself see it.

We're all lonely for something we don't know we're lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we've never even met?

I'm screaming for help and everybody's acting as if I'm singing Ethel Merman covers.

I had, by thirteen, developed a sort of Taoist hubris about my ability to control via non-control.

I don't want to hurt myself. I want to stop hurting.

...most Substance-addicted people are also addicted to thinking, meaning they have a compulsive and unhealthy relationship with their own thinking.

I find in myself a need to get very away.