Life is too huge for you to possibly hate.
And as soon as I thought this, I tried to think of something else quickly. Because we were so close that I felt sometimes like she could read my mind.
Despite evidence to the contrary, I hated drinking to the point that I misplaced really big slabs of time.
You’re at the crack addict’s apartment? Having a little sandwich?” he says. From the tone of his voice, you’d think I just told him I was hanging out at a playground wearing a NAMBLA t-shirt.
Augusten very distant tonight. Probably because of my games.
If you don’t like smoking don’t even bother getting sober, just stay drunk.
I wanted to shove her typewriter on the floor. I hated it and I hated her. I wanted to be a Cosby.
Signs with missing letters can only mean bad things.
I said all the wrong things. Except when I was busy saying all the mean ones and in the end I hated everybody and everything.
Where there is nothing, absolutely anything is possible.
We never sampled our drugs because we were afraid of them, but to admit it aloud would have broken the spell.
We had a wealth of something we didn’t want, but the wealth itself was intoxicating and we invented games just so we could experience the sensation of having too much of something.
Like socks in a dryer, it had vanished into the ether.
We tried to everything right, now we were forced to do everything wrong and it was working.
When you have a blueprint for what happiness is, lay it over your life and see what you need to change so the images are more aligned.
Riding back from the grocery store, I realized my father was two men – one he presented to the outside world, and one, far darker, that was always there, behind the face everybody else saw. In my bedroom late that.
It’s not such a huge deal when this happens at a 7-Eleven. It’s pretty huge, though, when you spend the entire job interview trying not to come across like a box of hair and you come across like a box of hair.
My mother is from Cairo, Georgia. This makes everything she says sound like it went through a curling iron. Other people sound flat to my ear; their words just hang in the air. But when my mother says something, the ends curl.
You would be amazed by what you can give up, lose, or break, and yet still be a person who gets happy over brownies.
I wouldn’t want to waste any of my brain cells on forgiving if it’s holding me back.