I like the discipline of writing a script. You can't go into the character's head - you have to find these creative ways to help externalize what they're thinking.

The face you give the world tells the world how to treat you.

Problems always start long before you really, really see them.

Everytime people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes.

I can't think of anything more crushing than slowly, over time, realizing exactly how wrong you were about someone.

For those who need a name, there's a gift basket of medical terms. All I know is cutting made me feel safe. It was proof. Thoughts and words, captured where I could see them and track them. The truth, stinging, on my skin, in a freakish shorthand. Tell me you're going to the doctor, and I'll want to cut worrisome on my arm. Say you've fallen in love and I buzz the outlines of tragic over my breast. I hadn't necessarily wanted to be cured.

I feel myself trying to be charming, and then I realize I’m obviously trying to be charming, and then I try to be even more charming to make up for the fake charm, and then I’ve basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I’m dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me. There’s a bowler and jazz hands and lots of teeth.