You are not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your f*****g khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep. And you’re never really awake.
I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let… let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.
You wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs.
This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.
Our fathers were our models for God, if our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?
First, you have to give up. First, you have to know, not fear, know that someday you’re gonna die.
F*** damnation, f*** redemption. We are God’s unwanted children? So be it!
…Condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night… then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.
With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.
