I Was An Angst-y Journal Writing Kid.

You Worry Too Much. Eat Some Bacon...what? No, I Got No Idea If It'll Make You Feel Better, I Just Made Too Much Bacon.

Writing A Book Is Incredibly Pleasurable, But Very Solitary. You Have Total Control, But Sometimes That Can Drive You Insane.

You Go Ahead. I'd Rather Not Be Shot Out Of A Tube Into A Pool Filled With A Bunch Of Nine-year-olds' Urine.

When It's Asshole-tightening Time, That's When You See What People Are Made Of. Or At Least What Their Asshole Is Made Of.

You Say You’re Sick, Huh? Well, It Looks Like You’ve Come Down With A Case Of Bullshit.