Make Notes—i’ve Lost More Material Than I’ve

The Small Seed Of Despair Cracks Open And Sends Experimental Tendrils Upward To The Fragile Skin Of Calm Holding Him Together.

With My Friends, I Don't Feel Pressure To Be Someone Other Than Who I Am.

Geez, If I Could Get Through To You, Kiddo, That Depression Is Not Sobbing And Crying And Giving Vent, It Is Plain And Simple Reduction Of Feeling. Reduction, See? Of All Feeling. People Who Keep Stiff Upper Lips Find That It's Damn Hard To Smile.

Haven't Lost Your Sense Of Humor After All But Your Sense Of Identity Is What Seems To Have Been Misplaced. No. Wrong. You Don't Lose What You Never Had.

I Notice When I'm On These Trips, I Read Like Mad. It's The Only Thing That Seems To Center Me, Bring Me Back To Remembering Who I Am. Or Forgetting Who I Am!