Here it comes. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I've decided I want to live forever.

Maybe this is why I sleep only a few hours a month. I don't want to die again. This has become clearer and clearer to me recently, a desire so sharp and focused I can hardly believe it's mine: I don't want to die. I don't want to disappear. I want to stay.

There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.

We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.

I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.

I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.

I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.