One day she told me that they'd decided that my gender was divvied into two neat piles-Men and Guys. Basically, all the saints of the world: Men. The jerks, the players, the wet T-shirt contest aficionados? They were Guys.

It's like the piano and the cello are being poured into my body, the same way the IV and blood transfusions are. And the memories of my life as it was, and the flashes of it as it might be, are coming so fast and furious. I feel like I can no longer keep up with them but they keep coming and everything is colliding, until I cannot take anymore. Until I cannot be like this a second longer.

You stood over me and you made a promise to me, as sacred as any vow. And I can understand why you're angry, but you can't blame me. You can't hate me for taking your word.

Losing me will hurt; it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.

In the calculus of feelings, you never really know how one person's absence will affect you more than another's.

I'll let you go. If you stay.

Life might take you down different roads. But each of you gets to decide which one to take.