Heroin spread that soft blanket over everything. But once the blanket was ripped off, it took a layer of skin with it, leaving nothing but nerve ends screaming in the breeze.

Half the reason I turned into a writer is you didn't have to show up anywhere. You could work naked.

All of us, at some point in life, choose our cliché.

All my life I'd gone for women who were a little off.

I don't really know how to do much else besides write.

I always figured I myself would never be lucky enough to die, I'd just live on and on in this increasingly dreary spiral.

I kept getting high to kill my shame at the fact that I kept getting high.