“I feel like I just went to my own funeral. and I didn’t like the eulogy”

“I want to write my own eulogy, and I want to write it in Latin. It seems only fitting to read a dead language at my funeral.”

“I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.”

“I went to outer space,” I said, “But I didn’t like it.”

“What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know.”

“Yesterday I fell in love,today feels like my funeral,I just got hit by a bus,shouldn't have been so beautiful,dont know why I gave my heart,gave my trust,gave everything.”