We are all freaks. Yes! Alone in our rooms at night, we are all weirdoes and outcasts and losers. That is what being a teenager is all about! Whether you admit it or not, you are all worried that the others won’t accept you, that if they knew the real you, they would recoil in horror. Each of us carries with us a secret shame that we think is somehow unique…And if we are, each of us, freaks – then can’t we accept what’s different in each other and move on?

If letters had eyebrows, these would be arched.

It's all about self-expression; you know, if you feel like a troll then you should look like a troll. It doesn't matter what you look like. I mean, if you have a hunchback just throw a little glitter on it, honey, and go dancing!

I don’t know how you look at the inside of your head — what metaphor you choose — but for those of us with endless yawning stretches of interior and nothing but nothing to stop us from getting lost in it, drugs can be wonderfully helpful.

Watch out for the average--they're usually hiding something big.

When you let the wolves guard the hen house, there's bound to be a few chicken dinners.

People die all around us all the time. Drop like flies. Overdose. Aids. Sometimes they kill themselves. People come. They go. Dying is the same as rehab or moving back to Missouri. It just means I won't be seeing them again