I'm here because of what I write. Obviously, I must know something.

I still don't know what Episcopalian means.

You can live your whole life in your brain and not experience what's around you. You go crazy that way.

Do they think I’m on drugs? That I have a life-threatening illness? That I’m anorexic? Emotionally, it doesn’t get easier to hear those criticisms – but it gets easier to be resolute about my reaction to it.

If I were to imagine myself as an idler wheel inside some big mix of gears, then I would be connected to everything. It’s not like there’s just me and then nothing.

My scars were reflecting the mist in your headlights I looked like a neon zebra, shaking rain off her stripes.

I realized I was trying to be friends with somebody who I used to be with but who I didn’t get along with. I’m really big on that. I need to be friends with everyone that I’ve ever had a relationship with.

Categories are gibberish to me. I understand – it helps people organize their thoughts. But you can’t go too far with it.

We are like a wishing well And a bolt of electricity.

Everything that happens with me gets made out to be a fiasco, but I have every right to do everything I’ve ever done. I stand by everything I’ve ever said, apologies included.