Kris Kidd Quotes

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.

A bag of bones can slip through small cracks in a crowd effortlessly.

The idyllic mayhem of two cultures colliding just doesn't seem as funny anymore.

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.

In Los Angeles, everything is 100 percent organic, except the people.

Drugs may know how to numb a brain, but the past never forgets to resurface.

I gave them everything I had, and I guess it feelsalright.I gave them my body, and they use it every night.

I love you. Let's get this over with.

I need to move. I don’t fit in here. I almost tried a juice cleanse once, but quickly remembered that I could starve, and was starving, myself for free.

We skip school and we ditch chores. We haunt shopping malls and grocery stores. House parties grow dull, but Amy's boyfriend is a dealer and we find ways to pass the time.

Apathetic in my adolescence, my heart is fluorescent. It flickerslike liquor store lights in the ghetto.

Cry wolf often enough and you eventually get eaten by the wolf, even if the wolf is you.

I want to know exactly how many pieces of myself I had to give away before I became something else entirely.

Under the influence, I am easily influenced. I try to keep my pants on, but some things are easier said than done.

In the soft light of morning, the sky outside turning light blue, my answer is always and still: “I’m fine.

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

My blood makes noise. And I’m saying this now, because I have a strange gut feeling that it will be silenced someday soon.

Everywhere I go, I kind of half stumble, half stomp. If there’s a balcony within a hundred feet of me at any given time, I am on it— smoking a Marlboro light 100 and complaining about something.

Sometimes, I worry I'm winning.

They say you can’t build Rome in a day, but I’m pretty sure you could destroy it in even less.

I drink Coke-zero while I score coke from an honors student in Huntington Beach.

Every ghost has a story. Monsters are nothing without mythology.

I want to be split open and reminded of shame.

I’m not bilingual, but I am fluent in therapists’ jargon.

I like people with weak will and bad taste.It feels like anything is possible.

You burn bright and you burn hard, like a fire in a dumpster, and nobody is so worriedabout you burning as they are worried about the fire spreading.

If I told you that I imagine love to be a two-way mirror, which side of the mirror would you imagine me standing on?

Beauty is biased, brainless. It says little to nothing about anybody as far as ethics are concerned, so why not monetize it? Give it some value, pin it with a price point. Otherwise, it’s worthless.

I haven’t felt the full weightof the world on my shoulders, and I haven’t experienceda fraction of the painand embarrassment I’ve put out into this great bigwhite world.

I think of drug dealers like I think of my father— never really there when you want them to be.

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.

Regret, albeit raw and relentless, is almost always unremarkable.

I just want to get away from me.

A drop in the bucket, a tear in the ocean, you’ve been treading cold water, memorizing the motion just to stay afloat.

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.

It’s so hard not to be fascinated by the broken, to remember that a boy with a sad smile and a pretty face is not the boy that you should fall in love with.

Another piano falls, but this time it's me— or my lascivious loneliness, or my grab bag of mental instabilities and emotional shortcomings, or whatever.

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.

In the movies, God is an actor just like everyone else.

You are only as deepas the ashtrays you use. You only stick around because you like the abuse.

I’m a lot like you, and you’re a lot like me.It’s sad to say, and it’s sad to see.

It isn’t easy, ” is easy to say and sometimes I think that the only thing we can dois say really easy things to each other.

I want to remember what we were like before we became ourselves.

You ask yourself when you’ll learn, and the answer is always, “Tomorrow.

Sunrise is starting to feel like a guilt trip.

I’ve memorized the best angles in the bathroom mirror from which to see how badly I’ve disintegrated. I truly do go from sixty to zero.

I love like a beaten child and I trust like an addict.

Repression is dangerous. It makes anvils of memories and drops them from impossible heights when you least expect it.

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.

You give the shirt off your back, no questions asked, and you stand alone at the cavernous mouth of your suburban closet—your entire life spent wonderingwhere your clothes went.