Reality is in the business of killing off fiction.

I must be dead for there is nothing but blue snow and the furious silence of a gunshot.

Love is like a reptile, you cut off its tail and it grows another one. Kiss Me Judas

Sorrow is like the ocean and sometimes I wish my heart would stop.

A friend is like anything else. A dog, a plant. You ignore them and they tend to die on you.

The digital sunset always looks better than the real thing, always. Because a sunset generated by the basic package of yellow sun and blue sky is unreliable. Today it may be stunning, hypnotic. Tomorrow it may be lifeless and dull, a white sky scorched with yellow. Tomorrow the sky will be velvet.

Anything you can imagine is probably true. And the worst you can imagine is probably worth money.

And my life went to pieces, like a love letter in the rain.

They give me a shot and a handful of pills to swallow. I stare at the thin red wall of my inner eyelid and listen to my skin and I can't be sure how the medication is affecting me. I can't remember how I'm supposed to feel. I can't remember my name. I have never seen my face.

Disappear, she says. I love that word.

I am so stupid, so easily fooled. It's really almost funny. If I could lift a finger I would gladly kill myself.