That’s the nice thing about dreams, the way you wake up before you fall.

Madness will push you anywhere it wants. It never tells you where you're going, or why. It tells you it doesn't matter. It persuades you. It dangles something sparkly before you, shimmering like that water patch on the road up ahead. You will drive until you find it, the treasure, the thing you most desire. You will never find it. Madness may mock you so long you will die of the search. Or it will tire of you, turn its back, oblivious as you go flying. The car is beside you, smoking, belly-up, still spinning its wheels.

It's really interesting to me how all of us can experience the exact same event, and yet come away with wildly disparate interpretations of what happened. We each have totally different ideas of what was said, what was intended, and what really took place.

The madness is there, and will always be there. But it will keep sleeping, as long as I don't wake it up.

You will miss her sometimes. Bear in mind she's trying to kill you. Bear in mind you have a life to live.

I grew into it. It grew into me. It and I blurred at the edges, became one amorphous, seeping, crawling thing.

You will not stop. The pain is necessary, especially the pain of hunger. It reassures you that you are strong, can withstand anything, that you are not a slave to your body, you don't have to give in to its whining.