Closure. I loathe that word.
These days, you’ve gotta milk a dollar out of every dime.
Life is a big fat gigantic stinking mess, that's the beauty of it, too.
I don't know how to be a friend. I don't know how to be anything.
Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that’s what it’s like, I wouldn’t mind.
In the middle of L.A.'s sunny non-winter, I need to sit in a dark closet to feel right.