I do have friends, but they don't know me, only someone I've created to take my place. Someone sculpted from ice. I keep the melted me bottled up inside. Where no one can touch her, until, unbidden, she comes pouring out.

And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I'm alive, despite this living death.

You gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in.

I never went to Albuquerque expecting to find love. I thought it had found me there, followed me home. I never came home expecting to lose love in the space of one brief telephone call. Is it always so short-lived?

Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest.

Sorry. But I don't need some money-grubbing preacher defining my relationship with God.

With you, I am Eve. And you are my beautiful Adam. Let's run away, find our garden, live there together, happy. Naked.