I still get awful depression. It's who I am.

My truth is that what doesn't kill you makes you weaker rather than stronger, although it makes you wiser.

Nothing sinister. Just getting exercise. Although some might consider that sinister.

He seemed wild and dangerous and carefree--well, he would, would'nt he? What were motorcycles and black leather pants if not the uniform of a wild, dangerous and carefree man?

I don't like this idea of division: that if you're a clever woman then you've got to be a particular way. Because men don't. Men please themselves.

The best anyone can do is breathe in, breathe out and wait for it to pass.

So I'm back again to the eternal question, the one that has plagued me all my life: How Do Other People Do It? How come they were given life's rule book and I missed out? Where was I when God was dispensing capability and cop on? Looking at shoes, probably.