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

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.

It's more eerie to be alone in a city that's lit up and functioning than one that's a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.

There is a chasm between me and the world outside of me. A gap so wide my feelings can't cross it. By the time my screams reach the other side, they have dwindled into groans.

It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.

Stop. Breathe those useless breaths. Drop this piece of life you’re holding to your lips. Where are you? How long have you been here? Stop now. You have to stop. Squeeze shut your stinging eyes, and take another bite.