You’re only who you really are when you’re doing what you really want. I am so much myself, I could never be anyone else.

I had never guessed that wanting one thing for so long, wanting it at the cost of everything else, I never would’ve guessed that finally getting my hands on it could not feel really any different than how it felt all along, how it didn’t push out the boredom and the terror in the rooms, in every room I’ve ever spent time in.

When you get older, I guess you learn the importance of flowers and good food and old friends. That’s called settling down. But I don’t need to be old to know that to look back and realize you didn’t push yourself for something you loved is the greatest regret you can have.

You lock yourselves in the room where you sleep with the person you love. This is the most intimate thing you can do with this person.

Closure and reason are impossible. Understanding, on the other hand, is the best you can hope for.

I have good news and bad news! The bad news is that the abyss and the void are all the same thing and it is monumental and everywhere. The good news is you can lie still in your bed while the cursed and the unskinned walk around in it and not feel a thing.

When you try to talk to God you don’t get him, instead you just get a sniveling little assistant who says he’ll relay your question and who goes around the corner for thirty seconds and reports back what he says God whispered in his ear, but you know that’s not what he’s done, there’s no one around the corner, he just stood there and counted off a reasonable time. As you know, that’s what religion is.

The end is the point of wanting something in the first place, isn’t it?

Melancholy is a term I learned about in my reading and I’ve discovered it can be wildly addictive to nurse one’s own melancholy, needless to say.

Life and the human condition are the exact same thing and it makes no difference, the design is sadness, gravitational and old, except the few times it hiccups and it’s not.