In that six months, so much happened that death seemed, primarily, inconvenient. The trial period was extended. I seem to keep extending it. There are many things to do. There are books to write and naps to take. There are movies to see and scrambled eggs to eat. Life is essentially trivial. You either decide you will take the trite business of life and give yourself the option of doing something really cool, or you decide you will opt for the Grand Epic of eating disorders and dedicate your life to being seriously trivial.

The anoretic operates under the astounding illusion that she can escape the flesh, and, by association, the realm of emotions.

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.

Hatred is so much closer to love than indifference.

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

...painfully curious...about how it feels to fall.

You can't teach an ear, you can't teach talent, but you can teach people who have those things not to just fly by the seat of their pants.