Nenia Campbell

I'm sorry I missed the meeting and hurt your little feely-weels okay?

I'm pretty sure those're my balls you've found,_ I said to the man searching my pants. __ou gonna count 'em out now? Because I'll save you the trouble. There's two.

You mean you don't want to come in and hold my hand while I piss?

You were a well-respected agent, Michael, a rags-to-riches fairytale ending. Until you became disgraced. Now it appears your own organization wishes to be rid of you. Why is this?___y gun turned back into a pumpkin.

You couldn't find your dick in the dark, you scheming, sleaze-mongering scumwad.

Hello, Mrs. Tran...I have David's homework. And if you ever want to see it again, you'll pay me the two million dollars I asked for.

A lot of people have it in for me. It's practically a school sport.

In her view, there were threeoptions for a woman. If you were beautiful, you got married. If youwere ugly, you became a nun. If you were beautiful and stupid, orugly and dishonorable, you became a whore.

She has built her whole life on the foundation of beauty: each chiseled plane, each sloping dimple, each soft curve as crucial as keystones in the cathedral of her body.

Death was not the scariest thing out there; no, the denial of it could be far worse.

What a joke, coming from a woman who worked for the fashion industry. Really. Starving yourself to fit into a size zero _ why did that size even exist? Zero referred to the absence of something, but what did it mean in terms of a model's measurements? Her fat? Or her presence? How much could you cut away before the person herself vanished? It was hypocritical, that's what it was. I said as much, adding, __f you're so keen on me being healthy then you should have no problem accepting me for the way I am. That's what's healthy, Mom. Not being focused on all this freaky weight-loss stuff.

What do you want to do with your life, then?_ is often the question I'm asked.To be honest, I don't know. I really don't.Mainly because I don't see myself living long enough for that to make much of a difference.

You're like a half-tamed creature, still shy of the bridle. 'Except you enthrall me, never shall be free.' But freedom is an illusion, anyway.

Once a flower is picked it immediately begins to die.

Fairytales by nature only talk about the victors. The survivors. Nobody speaks about what happens to those who failed, except in the abstract: as cautionary tales to guide others onto the path to success. How many brave knights fell to the dragon before he was slayed by the noble prince? How many children burned to a crisp and eaten before the wicked witch received her due? These stories are lost, but the lesson behind them is not: it is not enough to be merely pure and good.

Keep calm. You have the forest in your blood.

Remember how it feels, Silent One. That murderous rage, and how it makes your blood boil. Remember, and let it carry you the rest of the way__nly, learn to freeze it, as well, because the best killers are those who can put their desires on ice.

Sleeping is terrifying.When you close your eyes and surrender your consciousness to the void, you lose yourself__oluntarily__nd you're trustingly assuming you'll find yourself back out of the labyrinth again.Usually you do.But sometimes you don't.It's that uncertainty, more than anything, which kills me. That I might not wake up, and wouldn't know it.That I could be dead, dreaming I'm alive.