Kris Kidd Quotes

And then he’s somewhere inside of me, each thrust rattling my ribcage like a bottle of pills. I’m somewhere outside of myself, thinking about lust— about my slutty white sheets and all the men who like to hide in them.

And, to be honest, if weed is a gateway drug, then I really did hop the fence, but sometimes I can’t help but miss the sticky-sweet warmth of a good old fashioned hot box.

I just want to get away from me.

My slurred speech isn’t from one or nine drinks too many, it’s from my father.

You preach cleanliness,so I try to keep my room clean,but I feel no closer to God, and I guess that’s okaybecause he doesn’t knowwho he’s fucking with anyway.

And I guess at the end of the day, you’re just amazed that I can still stand, and I’m just amazed that I can stand still.

I've come to realize that hunger feels more like home than any tangible structure ever has, or probably ever will. I know now that creating absence is my way of coping with absence.

See, that’s the thing about L.A.— When you’ve mastered the art of feeling lonely in a room full of people, that’s when you know.

There’s a weight in the room now, a remembrance of childhood. It sinks like a stone, or a heart, or my weight on a good day.

My desire to self-destruct is a one-night standon Groundhog Day.Fucking repetitive. Repetitively fucking.