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I've often been told that I'm a bit strange. I hear that pretty regularly, but it is not how I see myself.

I've always been drawn to spooky things, to the unusual, to things that are dark but in a friendly way.

I like to go outside at night by myself and look at the sky and just appreciate it. I'm not that big of a weirdo, but - occasionally.

However long, it's definitely the presence of other people that brings out the weirdness - that collision of your own way of being with the everyday lives of others, the abrupt awareness - always a surprise no matter how often it's happened - that their lives are very different from your own.

I try so hard not to think that I am a stranger in a strange land. But I know that I stand out.

I think I'm at a place where I haven't really been encountered by anyone overtly strange. But people think they know me.

I think my mystery, or any person's mystery, is the thing that makes them most interesting. I try to be as conscious as possible of keeping that alive.

When you feel totally alone in your thoughts and feelings, there's someone out there who is going through what you went through, even if it's the strangest, weirdest thing you could think of.

I feel as though I have lived many lives, experienced the heights and depths of each and like the waves of the ocean, never known rest. Throughout the years, I have looked always for the unusual, for the wonderful, for the mysteries at the heart of life.

People say I make strange choices, but they're not strange for me. My sickness is that I'm fascinated by human behavior, by what's underneath the surface, by the worlds inside people.