For years now, I've wanted to fall asleep. The sort of slipping off, the giving up, the falling part of sleep. Now sleeping is the last thing I want to do.
For thousands of years, human beings had screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected me to clean up after everyone. I have to wash out and flatten my soup cans. And acc...
For the record, knowing when people are only pretending to like you isn't such a great skill to have.
Face it, dude. You nearly did sex on God's table. You're already shame spiralling big-time.
Everything you remember is wrong.
Every phone call I get fills me with joy and terror since this could be the caseworker or the killer.
Evie says, It's not living alone if you keep a rifle under the bed.
Everywhere, words are mixing. Words and lyrics and dialogue are mixing in a soup that could trigger a chain reaction. Maybe acts of God are justthe right combination of media junk thrown out into the...
Everyone has something wrong. And for a while, her heart just sort of flat lined.
Every planet will take on the corporate identity of whoever rapes it first.
Every masterpiece is just dirt and ash put together in some perfect way.
Every evening, I died, and every evening, I was born.
Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist.
Even after you're dead it hurts just as bad when your heart swells up, stretched bigger and bigger like an aneurysm of tears getting ready to boom.
Edition to edition, the symptoms change. Sane people are insane by a new standard. People who used to be called insane are the picture of perfect mental health.
Each wedding picture was less of a memento than a scar. Proof of some horror movie scenario Katherine Kenton has survived.
E cumplit de greu să uiţi de durere, dar e şi mai greu să-ţi aminteşti momentele minunate.Fericirea nu lasă cicatrici. Nu învăţăm mai nimic din perioadele de tihnă.
Dude, the place is filling up, I say. It feels like we're living in the bottom half of an hourglass.Like somehow we're running out of time.
Don’t ask me when because I don’t remember, but somewhere along the way I keep forgetting to commit suicide.
Don't do this. I love you. Don't shut me out.