I am not a morning person.

I kissed him on the cheek and left to find Bobby Lee. Him, I trusted to be in the line of fire. But it was more than that: I wasn't sleeping with bobby Lee. I didn't love him. Sometimes love makes you selfish. Sometimes it makes you stupid. Sometimes it reminds you why you love your gun.

I talk to myself everyone once in a while. Give myself very good advice. Sometimes I even take it.

It's not the fur or the fangs that make you a monster, not always. Sometimes, it's just where you draw the line.

How could you love someone and not want them to be happy?

[T]hese last few days where I've moped around damn near depressed for real, because of people who do not exist. Not really. I can buy them Christmas presents, but there is no way to send them. Sometimes I feel like I should be able to walk into the next room and there they will be, but they won't. These people do not exisit as flesh and blood, but there are different kinds of reality, and there are days when imagination feels very, very real.

one of the good things about being a woman is that my level of testosterone poisoning is lower than most men's.