Good anecdote – bad reality.
I’m fine, but I’m bipolar. I’m on seven medications, and I take medication three times a day. This constantly puts me in touch with the illness I have. I’m never quite allowed to be free of that for a day. It’s like being a diabetic.
Mania starts off fun, not sleeping for days, keeping company with your brain, which has become a wonderful computer, showing 24 TV channels all about you. That goes horribly wrong after awhile.
Sometimes you can only find Heaven by slowly backing away from Hell.
I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital.
I went to a doctor and told him I felt normal on acid, that I was a light bulb in a world of moths. That is what the manic state is like.
Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be.
I am mentally ill. I can say that. I am not ashamed of that. I survived that, I’m still surviving it, but bring it on. Better me than you.
I’m very sane about how crazy I am.
You’re only as sick as your secrets. Either it comes out their way or my way. I talk about myself behind my back. And I’m funny about it.
Celebrity is just obscurity biding its time.
Nobody wants to read about a good-looking happy person.
You know how they say that religion is the opiate of the masses? Well I took masses of opiates religiously.
Life is a cruel, horrible joke and I am the punch line.
I rarely cry. I save my feelings up inside me like I have something more specific in mind for them. I am waiting for the exact perfect situationand then BOOM! I’ll explode in a light show of feeling and emotion – a pinata stuffed with tender nuances and pent-up passions.
I spent a year in a 12-step program, really committed, because I could not believe what had happened – that I might have killed myself.
My mom had the breakdown for the family, and I went into therapy for all of us.
Eventually, life of the party is just like any other job. I’ve thought of myself that way at times, but it’s sort of like holding everybody hostage. It diminishes everyone else. And ultimately, your friends don’t require it of you.
There’s no room for demons when you’re self-possessed.
Here’s what I’ve learned: that someone can change the course of history with a box cutter.