As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I can get in touch with my Inner Sociopath.
I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.
As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.
I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else's fault.
I no longer need to punish, deceive or compromise myself. Unless, of course, I want to stay employed.
In some cultures, what I do would be considered normal.
Having control over myself is nearly as good as having control over others.
My intuition nearly makes up for my lack of good judgment.
I can change any thought that hurts into a reality that hurts even more.
I honor my personality flaws, for without them I would have no personality at all.
Joan of Arc heard voices, too.
I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.
I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper and complain.
As I learn the innermost secrets of the people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.
When someone hurts me, forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit. But not nearly as gratifying.
The first step is to say nice things about myself. The second, to do nice things for myself. The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.
All of me is beautiful and valuable, even the ugly, stupid, and disgusting parts.
I am at one with my duality.
Blessed are the flexible, for they can tie themselves into knots.
Rather than curse the darkness, I could light a candle... with a little luck, I could torch the place.
I will strive to live each day as if it were my 30th birthday.
Only a lack of imagination saves me from immobilizing myself with imaginary fears.
Does my quiet self-pity get to me? Yes? Or should I move up to incessant nagging?
I honor and express all facets of my being, regardless of state and local laws.
Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than "I told you so."
False hope is nicer than no hope at all.
A good scapegoat is nearly as welcome as a solution to the problem.
Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day watching TV. Instead I will move my TV into the bedroom.
Who can I blame for my own problems? Give me just a minute...I'll find someone.
Why should I waste my time reliving the past when I can spend it worrying about the future?
The complete lack of evidence is the surest sign that the conspiracy is working.
I am learning that criticism is not nearly as effective as sabotage.
Becoming aware of my character defects leads me to the next step-- blaming my parents.
To understand all is to fear all.
I will be accepting and kind, and learn to love televangelists
