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How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?
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The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.
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It all seems so permanent, so old and new at the same time. But I wonder if I will ever feel completely new again. Or will I spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease?
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Actually I don’t need the sleep as much as I need the escape. It’s a wonderful way to escape. I think I can’t stand it and then I just take a pill and wait for sweet nothingness to take over. At this stage in my life nothingness is a lot better than somethingness.
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One day I'll be old, without ever having really been young.
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I pretend I've got lots of confidence and I'm a big jock and like that but deep inside I'm a frightened, insecure, can't-make-it failure.
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Sometimes fantasies are better than life.
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I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.
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I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.
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I'm partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing. Sometimes I think we're all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don't like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don't want to be a robot!
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Depressed? No one in the world but a doper could know the true opposite of depressed.
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Everyone is trying to get attention but intelligent persons get theirs by doing something worthwhile, beneficial to himself and the community.
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Why so much hate in your mind when love is the only way to straighten things out?
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…I’d have died without them books. Even now I’m not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I’ve gotten from books.
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The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus "Not me! I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.
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I wanted to write in you.
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Maybe the new me will be different.
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Then there’s me… non-relevant, non-predicable… ass-headed.
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Like usual, what I want is not important, what I’m supposed to do that counts.
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How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?