I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have.
Believe in me and die forever.
You always kill the one you love.
I feel my heart ache, but I’ve forgotten what that feeling means.
We’re the culture that cried wolf.
I just want one person I can rescue and I want one person who needs me. Who can’t live without me. I want to be a hero, but not just one time.
Marla’s philosophy of life, she told me, is that she can die at any moment. The tragedy of her life is that she doesn’t.
Because I can’t hit bottom, I can’t be saved.
Ever since college, I make friends. They get married. I lose friends.
If you’re going to read this, don’t bother.
Someday you will die, and until you know that, you’re useless to me.
Everyone has something wrong. And for a while, her heart just sort of flat lined.
Disaster is a natural part of my evolution toward tragedy and dissolution.
The amazing miracle of death, when one second you’re walking and talking, and the next second you’re an object.
I am nothing, and not even that.
You gain power by pretending to be weak. By contrast, you make people feel strong. You save people by letting them save you.
Tyler and me at the edge of the roof, the gun in my mouth, I’m wondering how clean this gun is.
Do we have free will, or do the mass media and our culture control us, our desires and actions, from the moment we’re born?
Everybody’s trying to make every minute of the present last forever. Preserve every second.
It’s nice to see something more pathetic than I feel right now.