The part that makes assumptions is the dumbest part of your brain.
I’m of ten minds on the subject.
Sorry, can’t stop; I have to push this rock up this mountain.
I can just picture you giving a TED talk, pacing the stage in one of those fucking headphone getups, starting each sentence with the word “so,” thinking it makes you less of an asshole.
The things you joke about during the day can fill you with horror in the middle of the night.
He may have been a shit, but he objected to the word “total.”
This book would have been a labor of hate, never to be completed.
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She said, you’re a true artist, but not a very good one.
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Fuck it. I am going down in flames, somewhere out over the ocean. Or somewhere in a bar, in this undocumented summer. That will be my book.
This was the day he realized everything was a bonus.
In the last year of his life, his work was monochromatic. Yellow, the color of his yearning.
Fourteen year old girl, April 19, 2009
Today is Thursday. I saw my therapist. We doubled the dosage.
All I can think is one more time from the beginning.