They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces

I took my mother's knife and played johnny johnny johnny on the playhouse floor. I was drunk, stabbed myself every few throws. I held my hand up and there was satisfaction at seeing my blood, the way there was when I saw the red gouges onmy face that people stared at and turned away. They were thinking I was beautiful, but they were wrong, now they could see how ugly and mutilated I was.

Poppies bleed petals of sheer excess. You and I, this sweet battle ground.

Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.

Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.

I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.