You're never ready for what you have to do. You just do it. That makes you ready.

I have to force myself even to move my eyeballs. It's so easy just to stare.

I want somebody to love, and I want somebody to love me. And nobody ever will. And that's why it hurts. Because it makes a difference. And when nobody cares, it makes you all mad inside and it makes you want to say things, tear up things, break things, get through the glass.

I have no point in procrastinating any longer.

Isolated, she managed somehow to feel free—albeit with a freedom that made her want to smash a hole in the very center of the universe.

I’m not fit to occupy space. Excuse me for living.