By The Time You Finish Reading This

And Though The Coldness I Have Always Felt Leaves Me, The Numbness Doesn't And Probably Never Will. This Relationship Will Probably Lead To Nothing... This Didn't Change Anything. I Imagine Her Smelling Clean, Like Tea.

I Had All The Characteristics Of A Human Being—flesh, Blood, Skin, Hair—but My Depersonalization Was So Intense, Had Gone So Deep, That My Normal Ability To Feel Compassion Had Been Eradicated, The Victim Of A Slow, Purposeful Erasure. I Was Simply Imitating Reality, A Rough Resemblance Of A Human Being, With Only A Dim Corner Of My Mind Functioning

I Write Books To Relieve ­myself Of Pain. That's The Prime Motivator To Write. Period.

What Do You Do?' She Asks, Holding Out The Vest. 'what Do You Do?' 'what Do You Do?' She Asks, Her Voice Shaking. 'don't Ask Me, Please. Okay, Clay?' 'why Not?' She Sits On The Mattress After I Get Up. Muriel Screams. 'because... I Don't Know,' She Sighs. I Look At Her And Don't Feel Anything And Walk Out With My Vest.

Eventually Everyone Has To Hit The Dark Side Of Life - Someone Doesn't Like You, Someone Doesn't Like Your Work, Someone Doesn't Love You Back... People Die. What We Have Is A Generation Who Are Super-confident And Super-positive About Things, But When The Least Bit Of Darkness Enters Their Lives, They're Paralyzed.