Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death.

Why does this person who is sitting behind a desk and never watches cartoons is arguing about what cartoons should be like. Its so creepy realizing that this person is a lunatic.

I never killed anyone. I avoid going over that edge by writing about a guy who has taken a flying leap over it.

Doing something purely for one's own enjoyment is fine, but, I must admit, finding that others enjoy it as well has a certain power over the corners of my mouth.

The numbing mind-ream of knowing you're alone not because people won't accept you but because you find so little worth accepting. An imposed solitude is better than simply tolerating your company in waiting for something better. So loneliness is not such a terrible thing when you consider that the alternative to thought provoking solace is to be surrounded only by remindings of why that solitude is preferable.

Trust me, I know what self loathing is. But to kill myself? That would put a damper on my search for answers. Not at all productive.

I think there is something a little too self conscious about enjoying being an outsider.