I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it.I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.

I might have been eleven years old and a little socially immature, but I recognized a gauntlet being thrown down when I saw it, and I had no choice but to take it up.

I don't know how to be a friend. I don't know how to be anything.

I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.

Hate me. Devastate me. Annihilate me. Re-create me. Re-create me. Won't you, won't you won't you re-create me.

Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. “Are you hungry?”she asks. Am I ever.

Obey the muse, Liz said. She's a fickle mistress.