We are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial.

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.

The great thing about this life of ours is that you can be someone different to everybody.

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

The thing I realize is, that it's not what you take, it's what you leave.

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

I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Some lipstick would go with this truck, I thought.