This item has been redacted, for her pleasure.

The ornate brown and gold book has slicker pages than other notebooks I own, so the ink flowed more swiftly. Occasionally it would fly off the pages, and go places I regretted.

• Is today that day I forgive the world?
• Create an image with words instead of creating an image with suffering.
• For me, the maxim is: If you can’t say something intelligent, don’t say anything at all.
• Today my mind is buried deep inside my feelings.
• I deny ever having been me.
• Whisper my name. I call yours and you do not answer.
• I would take humanity, the whole world, tenderly in my arms before I destroy it.
• I am sorry for the awkward way I loved you. For years you filled up my heart. (You know who you are, even if you don’t know it’s you.)
• I was once close to her. Now I am only close to this moment.
• Sometimes I feel like I need my anger the way I need my next breath.
• I cannot make sense of my dreams, even though they make perfect sense.
• Who am I? Funny question, since I ask as though finding the answer would make a difference.
• Even after she left me, she said she would never leave me. (about K, 1988.)
• Staring at myself in the mirror for a long time, I slowly seem to see someone else.
• Ignorance is abyss.
• You can’t look at something without changing it.
• You mostly want what you want because someone a little smarter and a lot richer told you to want it.
• Get down behind me and kiss my path.
• Crying: never enough, always too much.
• The darkest place on earth.
• In this moment, I understand your denial. How else could you bear your existence?
• “I think I hear the answer, but it is only the wind and the dark and the vast emptiness.” -Journal, 1979
• The fork in the road: dreams or mirrors.
• The last foxhole atheist.
• I leave dark scars on your life.
• Story idea: held in my hands, trembling, insane words written in my own handwriting, that I don’t remember writing.
• The work of love’s axe on the frozen sea.
• I am a totally superior person and a completely inferior man.
• During a particularly dark vision, I stand up and walk around the room, but am unable to escape myself. As dark as it was in 1978, 1985, 1988, I think maybe it is darkest now, this moment, this vanishing point.
• Bomb me into the fucking stone age.
• I never knew how to let her go. It doesn’t matter if she let me go or not: she’s gone.
• Wallowing in the muddy sludge you get when you mix broken dreams with alcohol.
• “Maybe I’m boring and don’t know it. How terrifying.” -Journal, 1980.
• I want her to come home. That day will never come.
• It’s not a sore spot. It’s a dark spot. It’s less about losing her, and more about going back to that lonely place.
• …that darkest part of me, the cold, hungry, injured animal part of me, understands the terrorist, the murderer, the despot.
• I feel fragile, like old yellow paper.
• Nobody is as lonely as I am. Not even me.
• Just what I need: another black-souled woman for my collection.
• Real men don’t let bumper stickers think for them.
• How could I have held their hands, and let them go? Your hands.
• I love like a woman, but I hate like a wild animal.
• What do I want? I want to keep you warm.
• I’d rather live a dramatic life, as long as it’s good drama.
• Tears are an admission.
• When asked for one word to describe me, Whitney was split between “intense” and “passionate.”
• STOP! In large crowds, I find myself calculating how many cluster bombs it would take to kill them all. I have to stop that.

Thus the end. In many ways, I am relieved.