There is no past. Past is present when you carry it with you.

I want somebody to love, and I want somebody to love me. And nobody ever will. And that's why it hurts. Because it makes a difference. And when nobody cares, it makes you all mad inside and it makes you want to say things, tear up things, break things, get through the glass.

I have no point in procrastinating any longer.

You're never ready for what you have to do. You just do it. That makes you ready.

The anger. The terror. The feeling of entrapment. the profound distrust of people.The wistful, plaintive conviction that a window, a thing, was more important than she. These feelings and attitudes, expressed in the course of this hour, were symptoms of some profound disturbance.

I have to force myself even to move my eyeballs. It's so easy just to stare.

I’m not fit to occupy space. Excuse me for living.