Bandit

“No one can find you in the dark anyway. You just have to walk yourself out,

amily never quite leaves you, even, or maybe especially, especially if you leave them.

A chalkboard was a space that heard only the voices of the powerful, I learned.

But I failed to stop being a fool, given the chance.

mostly told no one. I was fine. And not. Like most people.

See there? That bit, you know, he tapped the MRI image. I saw but did not kno

Maybe private worlds are all there are. Talking about them is a way of conjuring gravity between them, a way to pull them near and make them matter to each other. I mean, to make any one of them matter at all. Certainly the force of describing them also changes them.
But it can’t be better to say nothing.
Everyone lives alone in families. Everyone goes alone into action, love, and work. Sometimes, it’s why we work. Everyone goes alone into sickness, too.

You transform yourself all the time, and a new self sticks if you keep choosing it.

Then I stopped reading novels. Too many families in novels

Mental illness is a gray cloud inside of a gray cloud. It gets sharpened into focus with different names, but names change, and with that, identities change.