My Bones Are Brittle, My Heart Weak

Madness Is Not What It Seems. Time Stops. All My Life I've Been Obsessed With Time, Its Motion And Velocity, The Way It Works You Over, The Way It Rushes You Onward, A Pebble Turning In A Brook. I've Always Been Obsessed With Where I'd Go, And What I'd Do, And How I Would Live. I've Always Harbored A Desperate Hope That I Would Make Something Of Myself. Not Then. Time Stopped Seeming So Much Like The Thing That Would Transform Me Into Something Worthwhile And Began To Be Inseparable From Death. I Spent My Time Merely Waiting.

You Can Only Whine For So Long. Then You Need To Get Your Life Back.

Were I To Put Myself On... One Of Those Online Dating Things, I Would Not Include In My Profile That I'm Regularly Hospitalized For Psychosis. But I Do Know That When I Get Really Bad, There Is A Place For Me To Go Where I Will Feel Better.

That Nothing - Not Booze, Not Love, Not Sex, Not Work, Not Moving From State To State - Will Make The Past Disappear.

The Fact That You Were Essentially Dead Does Not Register Until You Begin To Come Alive.