Quotes from Michael Thomas Ford

That's what people do. Kill the things they're afraid of.

So now I'm thinking about it. I'm imagining sitting down with my parents and actually saying, I'm gay. And you know what? It makes me a little mad. I mean, straight guys don't have to sit their parents down and tell them they like girls.

I'm still kind of a mess. But I think we all are. No one's got it all together. I don't think you ever do get it totally together. Probably if you did manage to do it you'd spontaneously combust. I think that's a law of nature. If you ever manage to become perfect, you have to die instantly before you ruin things for everyone else.

How come someone always saves the people who try to kill themselves and then makes them tell everyone how sorry they are for ruining their evening? I keep feeling like everyone wants me to apologize for something. but I'm not going to. I don't have anything to apologize for. They're the ones who screwed everything up. Not me. I didn't ask to be saved.

Just because your life isn't as awful as someone else's, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. You can't compare how you feel to the way other people feel. It just doesn't work. What might look like the perfect life -- or even an okay life -- to you might not be so okay for the person living it.

Anyone can be crazy. That's usually just because there's something screwed up in your wiring, you know? But suicide is a whole different thing. I mean, how much do you have to hate yourself to want to just wipe yourself out?

I knew people were talking, but I wasn't listening. I wasn't interested in anything anyone had to say.

Why is it that you have to warn people about who you are?

That sounds weird: kill yourself. It makes it sound like you tried to murder someone, only that someone is you.

It will go away... The stuff in your head. Little by little.

I'm tired of people thinking they're doing me favours.

Once you realise there's nothing to be afraid of when you die, there's nothing else to worry about.

I think he just loved being with the bears because they didn't make him feel bad. I get it too. When he was with the bears, they didn't care that he was kind of weird, or that he'd gotten into trouble for drinking too much and using drugs(which apparently he did a lot of). They didn't ask him a bunch of stupid questions about how he felt, or why he did what he did. They just let him be who he was.

Now I just have these reddish scars there. I guess I always will, although Goody says they'll fade over time. I don't know if I want them to fade. That probably sounds totally freaky, but part of me doesn't want to forget what it felt like, even though it hurt. If I forget about the pain, I might also forget that it was a really stupid idea to do it in the first place.

Let me tell something, seeing your name and psychiatric ward on the same piece of paper isn't the best way to start your day.

I keep feeling like everyone wants me to apologize for something.

Sometimes I think there's someone up there just sitting around thinking of ways to make me look like a complete moron. Seriously, I bet there's an angel—or, more likely, a demon—assigned just to me. And every day it gets up and asks itself what it can do to ruin my life. Well, today it got an A plus.

I know all about dreams that make you want to scream.

I swear, sometimes it feels like there's this monkey in my head who runs around turning the dials and changing channels on me. One minute I'm sitting around eating chocolate chip cookies and then all of a sudden I'm thinking about bears.

If you ever manage to become perfect, you have to die instantly before you ruin things for everyone else.

I'm not sure what a good person is, exactly. On the one hand, it could be someone who always play by the rules. But someone can follow the rules and still be a real jerk, you know? In fact, some of the biggest idiots I know are people who follow the rules, usually because they make you feel like crap when you don't.

That sounds so weird: kill yourself. It makes it sound like you tried to murder someone, only that someone is you. But killing someone is wrong, and I don't think suicide is. It's my life, right? I should be able to end it if I want to. I don't think it's a sin.

It's a really crappy feeling to realize that your entire outook on your life can be controlled by some little pill that looks like a Pez, and that some weird combination of drugs can make your brain think it's on a holiday somewhere really sweet when you're standing naked in the middle of the school cafeteria while everyone takes pictures of you. Metaphorically. Or whatever.

It's a really crappy feeling to realise that your entire outlook on life can be controlled by some little pill.