“It’s a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.”

I’m afraid to live and afraid to die.

Sometimes I think we’re all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don’t like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don’t want to be a robot!

one day I’ll be old, without ever having really been young

I guess I’ll never measure up to anyone’s expectations. I surely don’t measure up to what I’d like to be.

I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs–which shows how screwed up this world really is!

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren’t even physical?

I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

I can’t believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it’s only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

Nobody’s talking to me, but nobody’s hassling me either. I guess you can’t have everything.

The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus “Not me! I didn’t think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.

She didn’t know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.

Sometimes fantasies are better than life.

Maybe the new me will be different.

I pretend I’ve got lots of confidence and I’m a big jock and like that but deep inside I’m a frightened, insecure, can’t-make-it failure.

Why is life so difficult? Why can’t we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?