Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.

I hear you. I just don't believe a word you say.

Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.

I'm scared. What will tomorrow bring? It has to be better than today. It has to.

I'd decided to write him and tell him to leave me alone. Please, in a nice way, go away, I really can't deal with you.

Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.

How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.