To pretend to be calm is to be calm, in a way.

I've always believed clear-eyed sobriety was for the harder hearted.

Safer to be feared than loved.

I'm a true-crime addict. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but I can't stop.

I'm not someone who can be depended one five days a week. Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday? I don't even get out of bed five days in a row-I often don't remember to eat five days in a row. Reporting to a workplace, where I should need to stay for eight hours-eight big hours outside my home- was unfeasible.

I think there is something very relatable in the idea that you hit a certain age, later in your life, where you realize you have to pick up the rug and see what's underneath it and deal with stuff.

I've always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication, a layer of protection from all the sharp thoughts in your head.