This world can only give me reminders of what I don't have, can never have, didn't have for long enough.

Grief, he said, is carnivorous.

Which would be worse - to live as a monster, or to die as a good man?

Everyone sees different things.

It had occurred to Sean once - on a bender about ten years before with some buddies, Sean and a bloodstream full of bourbon turning philosophical - that maybe they HAD gotten in that car. All three of them. And what they now thought of as their life was just a dream state. That all three of them were, in reality, still eleven-year-old boys trapped in some cellar, imagining what they'd become if they ever escaped and grew up.

He wondered if this was what clinical depression felt like, a total numbness, a weary lack of hope.

How am I supposed to let you go, that's all I'm asking. I want to hold you again, smell you, and, yes too, I just want you to fade. To please, please fade.