Asking how to be happy is like asking how to be awake! When you are awake, you are awake. There is nothing more. The question is an absurd abstraction. Cease asking and you will see!

Imagine you had a dream where throughout you thought, "Why am I asleep? How do I wake up?" And for the whole dream all you do is try to find ways to wake yourself up but of course, nothing works. Then because you're so concerned about being asleep you miss out on the whole dream and when you do eventually wake up, because that's what happens, you think, "Wow, I really hate dreaming!" And now that you hate dreaming you don't really appreciate being awake either. This rabbit hole goes down and down, endlessly, until every second, waking or sleeping, feels like an eternity of despair.

Do you really want to know how to be happy? Be sad! Be sad! Be sad! Be sad! And be glad that you're sad! That is all depression is: misery about misery, forever and ever, until you don't even remember why you're miserable and that makes you sadder still!

But why should you be sad about sadness? Sadness is beautiful! Sadness is truth! As sure as the sun rises and sets! As sure as grass grows! As sure as life and death! You don't need strange, mind-altering potions that make you forget. You don't need an answer to a question that doesn't exist. You need only to be what you are! You got that, you miserable wretch?

Why does my therapist never understand that I am trying to help her? She's so ungrateful!


I just can't find my style! she said,
I've tried so many things.
I stood five hours on my head
Reciting Lord of the Rings;
I went to school, I went to college,
For years, I ate nothing but porridge,
But still don't have a clue!
I've tried pencils, pens –
Paintbrushes too!
I even tried glitter and glue.
I just can't find it,
Whatever I do!

How many passive aggressive mothers does it take to change a light bulb?
"Don't worry about me, I'll just sit in the dark."

Purple Cow

I, for one, have met the cow,
Her name is Mally Moo.
Her mother, red as Chairman Mao,
And I believe the bull was blue.

One Forty Four

So my ex-mother called me,
One forty four (hours)
After my dad died,
Said, "I still need my alimony
Or I just won't survive!"
This is the same woman
Who sent me suicide letters,
Faked having cancer,
Miraculously got better,
Torments my sister
Just 'cause it's fun,
Then tells me that I
Am a terrible son.


Lightness, lightness!
When will I get back
My lightness?
I can't stand to be heavy!
I need gaiety,
I need laughter,
I need irony.
Death is so heavy,
Like an obese step sister,
Shovelling stale cake
And candied sweets
Into her fat fucking mouth
While the floorboards weep
Beneath her feet!