I'm sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I'm still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.

The trouble about jumping was that if you didn't pick the right number of stories, you might still be alive when you hit bottom.

Doreen had intuition. Everything she said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of my own bones.

Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

You have lost all delight in life. Ahead is a large array of blind alleys. You are half-deliberately, half-desperately cutting off your grip on creative life. You are becoming a neuter machine. You cannot love, even if you knew how to begin to love. Every thought is a devil, a hell-if you could do a lot of things over again, ah, how differently you would do them! You want to go home, back to the womb. You watch the world bang door after door in your face, numbly, bitterly. You have forgotten the secret you knew, once, ah, once, of being joyous, of laughing, of opening doors.

I am myself. That is not enough.