There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.

What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.

Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will… but then again, if you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all. Imagining isn’t perfect. You can’t get all the way inside someone else… But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in. It is the machine that kills the fascists

Don't worry. Worry is useless. I worried anyway

but there was nothing I could do to dim the supernovae exploding inside my brain, an endless chain of intra cranial firecrackers

I am glad to be unalone in cramped circles of restless yearning.

Você da poder demais aos seus pensamentos, Aza. São apenas pensamentos. Eles não são você. Você pertence a si mesma, mesmo quando seus pensamentos não pertencem.

Trying to find something solid to hold on to in this rolling sea of thoughts

Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia