Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It's you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever.

Confuse was the nurses' word for abuse.

When you’re sad you need to hear your sorrow structured into sound.

Emptiness and boredom: what a complete understatement. What I felt was complete desolation. Desolation, despair and boredom.

Mental illness seems to be a communication problem between interpreters one and two.

And this was the main precondition, that anything might be something else. Once I'd accepted that, it followed that I might be mad, or that someone might think me mad. How could I say for certain that I wasn't, if I couldn't say for certain that a curtain wasn't a mountain range?

... now I was safe, now I was really crazy, and nobody could take me out of there.