With my friends, I don't feel pressure to be someone other than who I am.

For me being depressed means you can spend all day in bed, and still not get a good night's rest.

And if you ever do a survey, you'll find that people prefer illusion to reality, ten to one. Twenty, even.

The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.

Depending on the reality one must face, one may prefer to opt for illusion.

Writers don't write to inform other people, they write to find out something themselves.

. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.