Two things there will always be in life: Beauty and pain. Mostly beauty.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the absurdity of the fact that the day before she was here, and now, just one day later, she isn't. Think about it. Death is so fucking absurd.

I didn't really want to hurt myself. I just wanted my old body back. That, and my old sense of normalcy, which may not have been all that normal to begin with, but it was nothing like this. This was the exact opposite of normal. This was a David Lynch movie.

Fact: You are part Shakespeare. You are part Jack the Ripper. You are part dinosaur. You are part of a star that exploded way back at the beginning of time. On one level, you've already lived forever,. There is no separation.

Rise up and lift your sword, peaceful warrior. Keep it strong and steady. You've already lived and fought a thousand battles, and you're not here—again—to cower in fear and pain.

Fear is a bastard. Fear is an attention whore. I want to ask fear if it has mommy issues, because that’s the only reason I can think why it needs attention so bad. I want fear to get Parkinson’s. Then maybe fear will know how it feels to be on the run from something it doesn’t understand.

The panic was there, staring me down in the face, all the time, like I had a hoodie on backwards and I couldn't get it off.

Life is not meant to be a montage of catastrophes. It’s also not a giant prison, and neither are these bizarre, meaty casings we are housed in for the time being. And they’d make terrible ones anyway. These bodies aren’t exactly built to last. They get sick and get old and fall apart. But truth is, the me that is me is not the sick one here. And I refuse to feel imprisoned.

I lead a double life. I'm John Wayne Gacy. I present myself in potentially awkward social situations as a laughing, colorful clown to gain your regard. If you ask my friends and neighbors, they will tell you I'm "normal" and that I "keep to myself." Meanwhile, there's a crawlspace in the basement where I've buried my secrets. It's starting to get pretty crowded down there, but they are mine. And there they'll stay.

I'd much rather spend all day on the Santa Monica pier playing Asteroids than delve into the murk and analyze myself. And if you think I haven't gone down to the pier to do that recently, well, you'd be wrong. Sometimes you just have to be twelve again.