You’re going to leave me, aren’t you? … You’ve had enough of me, haven’t you? You’re probably so tired of all this crying and all these moods, and I’ve got to tell you, so am I. So am I. Sometimes it seems like my mind has a mind of its own, like I just get hysterical, like it’s something I can’t control at all. And I don’t know what to do, and I feel so sorry for you because you don’t know what to do either. And I’m sure you’re going to leave me now.

So many more cycles of elation of the first kiss, and devastation when it's over.

They have no idea what a bottomless pit of misery I am.

In life, single women are the most vulnerable adults. In movies, they are given imaginary power.

My life's actually been quite dull; it's not all that glamorous.

Everything's plastic, we're all going to die sooner or later, so what does it matter.

...occasionally I wished I could walk through a picture window and have the sharp, broken shards slash me to ribbons so I would finally look like I felt.