I may have made a straight A in physics, but I was panic-struck. Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it.

I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free.

O heart, such disorganization!

A ring of gold with the sun in it? Lies. Lies and a grief.

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.