Today is not a Monday or Tuesday. It is only Today. Tomorrow and yesterday share its Today-ness.

What I’ll never be okay with is an arbitrary 50 minute cage around the learning in my room.

Now the pile of non-related shittiness is sort of throbbing at me, begging to be aggregated.

That smart kid is more kid than smart.

Drowning was elegant—everything was the same except now you’re dead.

When a dysthymic person has a bout of major depression, it's called double depression. I don’t have any single depression to compare it to.

I cannot stop eating gas station food, despite it being, you know, gas station food.

You’re aware of how fragile this sugar sculpture is.