Forgive yourself. For being broken. For being you. For thinking those are things that you need forgiveness for.

Only monsters call when they could text.

I have struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. When I was young I thought it would pass as I got older, and when I was older I thought it would pass when I was successful, and when I was successful I thought that it was hopeless because even when everything was going right I was still wrong.

My doctor nodded. “I think you’ll be fine no matter what,” he said. “You don’t let your pain go to waste.” It’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever been given. I hold it to my chest on dark days. I wear it as a shield when the fear creeps in … the fear of getting worse and the fear of getting better. I think this is what hope feels like.

People without depression won’t understand that, but the fatigue of mental illness makes your very body a prison.

I’m not sure what the difference is between sleeping and time travel.

LIFE IS LIKE RIDING A BICYCLE … It’s hard and sweaty and surprisingly tough on your genitals. Also, you’re going to fall a lot.

Nothing lasts forever. The good and the bad.

Right now, as you read this, you are alone, you gorgeous solitary creature. But I am with you. We share this paragraph and these words, and even if you don’t agree with me you are listening and we have connected in small and large ways. And in that way we are not alone. We are together. And in a way that doesn’t even require you to put on pants.