How could you not want to draw breath one more day? How could your own life be such a cheap commodity? But then I started to understand: when your existence is hell, death must be heaven.

Something still exists as long as there's someone around to remember it.

There is no one truth. There’s only what happened, based on how you perceive it.

After all, how many of us had tried to forget something traumatic...only to find it printed on the back of our eyelids, tattooed on our tongues?

Maybe if you spend your life pretending you're on a movie set, you don't ever have to admit that the walls are made out of paper and the food is plastic and the words in your mouth aren't really yours.

Traveling is all very well and good as long as you knew there is a place or person you can call home

Lie to yourself until it's true.