Healing is a deeply private process and, honestly, you’re not welcome to be a part of it. But you will have given me a short furlough from the dark, sorry prison of my mind, and that gift, precious in...
A problem is something to solve. If there's no solution, it's not a problem, so stop treating it like one.
She'll cry, and if she does, I probably will, and then she'll have found a way in, and I will not let her pierce my walls in a Trojan horse of sympathy.
You still go to therapy?Nah. I gave up years ago.Mental health ins't for everyone.
You didn’t invent grief. My shrink once told me that. Really? Your shrink told you about me?
Why'd you come to me?Really?Yeah.I care less about letting you down.
To have nothing when you're twenty is cool, it's expected, but to have nothing when you're halfway to seventy, softening and widening on a daily basis, is something altogether different. It's like set...
Things have been going too well for me lately. I feel like I have some bad karma headed my way. Tamara frowns at me as she leads me toward the dressing rooms. That’s a pretty dire outlook on life, she...
There is a sense of violation in learning that, unbeknownst to me, my mind has maintained such a strong connection with the town, as if my brain's been sneaking around behind my back.
That's the thing about life; everything feels so permanent, but you can disappear in an instant.
THERE IS NOTHING more pathetically optimistic than the morning erection. I am depressed, unemployed, unloved, basement-dwelling, and bereaved, but there it is, every morning like clockwork, rising up...
She was smart and funny and vulnerable and just so goddamned beautiful, the kind of beautiful that was worth being shot down over.
Rowdy, hopped-up college kids pass us in an endless, noisy blur like they're being mass produced or squeezed out of a tube - guys skulking in their T-shirts and cargo shorts, girls in low-slung jeans...
Our parents can continue to screw us up even after they die, and in this way, they’re never really gone.
It’s a sad moment when you come to understand how truly replaceable you are.
I've been treating my life as this pit stop, just kind of regrouping before I move on. But it's been seven years, and I never moved on. I haven't done anything. I just...stopped.
I'm not the same person I was. I'm fucked up. I give her a sideways glance. I am, she says. You haven't even scratched the surface.I find that most people worth knowing are fucked up in some way or an...
I wake up like this, this sense that I've somehow been transported to an alternate universe where my life took a left instead of a right beacuse of some seeemingly insignificant yet cosmically crucial...
I haven’t seen her in a while, haven’t returned her calls or stopped thinking about her.
I feel a dark wave of regret for the kind of person I turned out to be.