I feel like he's taking advantage of me. Advantage of my illness. He thinks he can rewrite history in any way that he likes and I will never know, never be any the wiser. But I do know. I know exactly what he's doing. And so I don’t trust him. In the end he is pushing me away, Dr. Nash. Ruining everything.

I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.

Work. Write. Read. Keep putting words on the page, because that's the only way you'll get better.

‎"Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?

There are memories I a better off without. Things better lost forever.

It's so difficult, isn't it? To see what's going on when you're in the absolute middle of something? It's only with hindsight we can see things for what they are.

I am an adult, but a damaged one.