Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip code-those are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.

I thought it was real. But by morning, all I had left were fragmented pieces, shifting images with no beginning or end.

Trust me, you can't play the game if you don't know the rules. And if you don't know the rules, someone's bound to get hurt.

Explaining that I'm faced with a choice between being with the love of my life, or saving four lives that were never meant to end.

The weird thing about saying good-bye is that it never gets easier.

If you insist on the chase," I say, my voice much surer than I feel."Then you better start training. 'Cause, dude you're in for a marathon.

Of course, I didn't kill them. They're just taking a little ... siesta, that's all.