Having a normal person around me made it poingnantly clear to me that I was out of control.

The idea of my future simultaneously thrilled and terrified me, like standing at the lip of a very sheer cliff- I could fly, or fall. I didn't know how to fly, and I didn't want to fall. So I backed away from the cliff and went in search of something that had a clear, solid trajectory for me to follow, like hopscotch.

I get absolutely shitfaced. I am shitfaced and hyper and ten years old. I am having the time of my life.

And yet you are all that you have, so you must be enough. There is no other way.

When you are mad, mad like this, you don't know it. Reality is what you see. When what you see shifts, departing from anyone else's reality, it's still reality to you.

Some people who are obsessed with food become gourmet chefs. Others become eating disorders.

I am often drawn to what appear at first to be 'dark' or 'difficult' subjects, but which, upon further examination, are always and only reflections of the ways human beings attempt, however clumsily, badly, or well, to connect with others.