Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own - my words are gone.

I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.

Who cares for Algebra?Who delights in solving math?I only want to live my lifeAlong the creative path.

I thought: Just one step. One step at a time. You don’t have to do them all at once.

It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other easily understood disease just to make it easier on me and also on them.

I should be happy, but instead I feel nothing. I feel a lot of nothing these days. I've cried a few times, but mostly I'm empty, as if whatever makes me feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving me hollowed out like a shell.

You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.