No matter how much you consumed, you would not have your fill.

The bigger the hole inside you, the more desperate you became to fill it.

People ask all the time how I'm doing, but the truth is, they don't really want to know.

Whether or not you believe in Fate comes down to one thing: who do you blame when something goes wrong.

I'd like to say that this time I'd kill myself too..but I've never had that kind of courage.

That's why we read fiction, isn't it? To remind us that whatever we suffer, we're not the only ones?

At 17, the smallest crises took on tremendous proportions; someone else's thoughts could take root in the loam of your own mind; having someone accept you was as vital as oxygen. Adults, light years away from this, rolled their eyes and smirked and said, 'This too shall pass' - as if adolescence was a disease like chicken pox, something everyone recalled as a milk nuisance, completely forgetting how painful it had been at the time.