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

I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.

I wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn’t hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me?

They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.

I’m partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing.

I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.

I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.

This morning when I left Mom’s parting words were, “Come straight home after school.” Wow! Like I’m going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn’t sound so bad at that.

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?

In everything was the spirit of children’s play – not the rule-ridden, time-killing play of adults that is a preparation for death, but the busy and credulous play of children that is a preparation for life.

Everything takes time… and that’s something that your generation find it a lot harder to adjust to.

One can say everything best over a meal.

And, of course men know best about everything, except what women know better.

There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.

Read, read, read. Read everything — trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it.

If Jesus rose from the dead, then you have to accept all that he said; if he didn’t rise from the dead, then why worry about any of what he said? The issue on which everything hangs is not whether or not you like his teaching but whether or not he rose from the dead.

That everything around you give you its utter attention, think only of you, care only for you…every man wants to be a tyrant when he fornicates.