"There's just this pressure I feel to be, well, 'on', you know? Like it's just so much effort. And then when I am there and 'on', I have  this sick compulsion to play this stupid game humans always play when they're hanging out together - this game where one person tells a story about how great he is, and then the next person somehow finds a connected story that tells how equally great, or greater, she is. The game goes on and on like that the full eighthour workday. And as much as I try to just be like everyone else, I always end up leaving feeling hollowed out, fucking gutted - like I need a drink - like I must be some entirely different species from the rest of humanity."

"There are a lot of times when I still hate everything - you know, most of all myself. And in those moments, well, using can seem like an all right idea. But, fuck, man, the thing is, those moments are only moments. I've been through 'em enough times to know that they will pass. [...] So what I do is, man, I hide out in bed. I watch a movie. I lie on the floor with little Quimby and pet him and cry and wait. 'Cause it passes. A day goes by, or two, or a whole fucking week, but then it's over and I can see the truth again. The truth is: It's a beautiful life. I've just got to hold on, is all. I've gotta hold on. 'Cause it will be all right. And we keep moving forward like that. No matter how many times we stumble. No matter how many times we all fall down."