He cried when I left, which I find to be standard male behavior.

My reasons to live Were my reasons to die But at least they were mine Now I've freedom unbound Cut the laces of life

We will paste upon the curled pages words Like charming and romantic and sentimental Forgetting that charming is witchcraft Romantic is love And sentiment is what makes us human

Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

There is no suggestion box in the Psych Ward.

I was reading everything under the sun from music history to feminist literature to Shakespeare, which is why I'm not a complete idiot at this time.

Nothing in my life has ever made me want to commit suicide more than people's reaction to my trying to commit suicide.