More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She never came back for me.
If one thing in the world could be erased, I’d pick sickness. Then all the money spent on research and healthcare could be used to cure hunger and poverty. After that, it could be used by organizations that would help animals and women, children, or the defenseless. After that, it could be spent on improving the educational system. (And whatever is left over could be used for space exploration).
I should have been born with a dick so the world could suck it.
Then I’ll cut off everyone’s middle finger and make ’em shove it up their asses—that way, even deaf people will get my point.
Drugs are my best friend now; but my lungs really shouldn’t be around all of this smoke.
I trade pieces of my body—for pieces of my mind.
The more unhappy I am, the more I want to drink, and right now I REALLY WANT TO DRINK!
I’d love some dust or acid right now, or even some ’shrooms.
I’ve been gaining a lot of weight from drinking so much beer—and getting the mun...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Why doesn’t the world act like it knows me?
When getting high, always remember mom—AND HOW ANNOYING SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE IS HIGH—and engrave it into my brain NOT to act like that.
I never appreciated how hard it is for quiet thinkers to be the new kid.
In its deepest, most condensed form, nothing can be seen.
Today she told me that she wanted to be with Joe and that if I didn’t like it—I should find another place to live. ANOTHER PLACE TO LIVE? I hate her for this. Hate is not a strong enough a word. Over her daughter, she chose a man—a man who beats her in front of her own children, who calls her a whore and a slut. I’m not sure which one of them is sicker? Is it her for taking him back again and again? Or Joe for the way he continues to abuse us?
Okay, first the cops came to our house because mom, Joe and I all got into a fight. It was like an episode of the Jerry Springer Show.
Last night I tried this new drug called “Special K.” It’s an animal tranquilizer.
I took all of the eight pills that this guy gave me and washed them down with a 40 ounce of malt liquor.
felt half asleep, half awake.
We do heroin together and get into a lot of trouble—but it’s FUN trouble.
Mom called from a payphone. She told me if I didn’t like living there with him, I would, “HAVE TO FIND SOMEPLACE ELSE TO LIVE!” Yep. My own “mother” chose an abusive, asshole boyfriend over me and my eight-year-old sister. Fucking bitch! She only loves me when it’s convenient. I’M the one who is always there for her. I’M the one who is her DAUGHTER—and that word means nothing to her.
All I ever need is love. Just love. Love makes me happy.
Something or someone can be torn from you so fast.
Cause you’ve hung me upside down Now I’ve lost my princess crown But just ignore me if I start to cry Cause if you don’t, I’ll probably die.
Sometimes I feel like being the biggest bitch alive. I feel like being as completely heartless as possible. I want to send shivers down people’s spines and turn their stomachs. I want to desensitize everyone’s heart with my indifference. I want to return everything that everyone’s left in my doleful path. Not only will they know the hurt, shame, embarrassment and loneliness they’ve taught me—but at least this way they shall FEEL it, too.
I said it was his loss.
He said no, it was his gain.
I told him that his fat ass need not gain anym...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Everyone is sinister, up to something.
The day after I was gang-raped, I woke up alone.
I lay still on the mattress, pretending to be one of its many stains.
apartment and those people? You had a picture of this
Someone yelled, “Mary Rose broke the phone!”
Oh, and one thing about a boring life—you’ve got to stretch your imagination farther to come up with fiction, than if your living a busy, entertaining life.
Busy lives have more inspiration.
I guess, overall, a bored writer becomes the best writer, because they develop a more brilliant imagination; while the busy writer may only develop ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Whenever a guy does something like burp really loud, I want to shove a tampon right in his fucking mouth.
Love is the creator of hate and the daughter of disappointment, as no two people could hurt each other more than two people in love.
It’s haunting to think that my family members will not drive an hour to come and visit me while I am in the hospital and yet I know they would
drive two hours to attend my funeral.
