“Depression is a side effect of dying.”

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.

I don’t think your missing pieces ever fit inside you again once they go missing.

I’m not saying that everything is survivable. Just that everything except the last thing is.

It’s just that most really good-looking people are stupid, so I exceed expectations.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

You are helpful, and you are loved, and you are forgiven, and you are not alone.

You don’t remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.

They love their hair because they’re not smart enough to love something more interesting.

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

What a slut time is. She screws everybody.

If you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all.

Every year, many, many stupid people graduate from college. And if they can do it, so can you.

We are as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be.

That didn’t happen, of course. Things never happened the way I imagined them.

When I look at my room, I see a girl who loves books.

The future is a kind of nostalgia.

I don’t find anything upsetting or gross or degrading about fighting with a mental illness: Bipolar or Schizophrenia.

I’m trying very hard not to connect with people right now.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not solid. I’m hollow. There’s nothing behind my eyes. I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence.

I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.

Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear.

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.

A mental health crises should not end in death.

It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.