Everything I know I imagine everyone else knows as well. And then everything that everyone else knows I imagine they know on top of what I know, so I'm constantly anxious about what everyone else knows.

I hate stereotypes and I hate cliche.

In real life nothing means anything. Stuff happens and there just is no structure.

I erased the thought from my mind, but I couldn't undo the fact that I'd had the thought in the first place.

If something wants to be a story, it will be.

Everything I know I imagine everyone else knows as well. And then everything that everyone else knows I imagine they know on top of what I know, so I'm constantly anxious about what everyone else knows.

For other people, love is like some rare orchid that can only grow in one place under a certain set of conditions. For me it's like bindweed. It grows with no encouragement at all, under any conditions, and just strangles everything else.