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Here's what I've learned: that someone can change the course of history with a box cutter.
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I went to a doctor and told him I felt normal on acid, that I was a light bulb in a world of moths. That is what the manic state is like.
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My father was a joyous, joyous spirit, he really was. He was a hedonist, that was just - he enjoyed life, thrust up to the elbows with it. He was a terrible father. I don't know that he was parented that well.
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I hate caviar. Ugh! The freebase of food!
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I just admire my mother very much.
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I can't say that period talk is my favorite bonding arena. But I also think it's sort of funny.
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I have a chemical imbalance that, in its most extreme state, will lead me to a mental hospital.
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I was street smart, but unfortunately the street was Rodeo Drive.
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I don't do acid anymore, so I travel instead.
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Actually,I am a failed anorexic. I have anorexic thinking, but I can't seem to muster the behavoir
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I was into pain reduction and mind expansion, but what I've ended up with is pain expansion and mind reduction.
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I didn't confide in men. Well, I didn't confide in anyone.
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No motive is pure. No one is good or bad-but a hearty mix of both. And sometimes life actually gives to you by taking away.
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Until adolescence I thought I had the best mother in the world. Such a graceful mother. I had this fantasy that I was the wrong daughter.
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Anything you can do in excess for the wrong reasons is exciting to me.
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There are women in makeup and hair and wardrobe, but not in camera, not in sound, you know, and not in special effects. It's all men.
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A lot of the time, I'm just smart enough to be unhappy.
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I'm fond of kissing. It's part of my job. God sent me down to kiss a lot of people.
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Don't you see? We've become smart enough to justify stupid behavior. Like, 'I'm angry at him and I didn't express it, so I turned my anger inward and now it's depression, so in order to feel good again, what I should do is call him and express my anger.' It's like, if we can make it sound smart enough, we're allowed to do stupid things.
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From here on out, there's just reality. I think that's what maturity is: a stoic response to endless reality. But then, what do I know?
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I used to want to gamble, too, until I was 20 and could actually go to a casino. Then I wasn't so crazy about the attitude.
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I'm in denial in its lesser state. It will take me a second. People around me will notice my mania first. And, my depression.
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All I know is that you can chop up all the onions and the whatevers you want and put it on top of caviar, but you still can't disguise the fact that you're eating fish eggs. Ugh!
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I mean, that's at least in part why I ingested chemical waste - it was a kind of desire to abbreviate myself. To present the CliffNotes of the emotional me, as opposed to the twelve-column read.