I know I'm not going to say good-bye. And if these staggering refugees want to help, if they think they see something bigger here than a boy chasing a girl, then they can help, and we'll see what happens when we say yes while the rigor mortis world screams no.

I wince at her use of the word "human." I've never liked that differentiation. She is living and I'm dead, but we're both human. Call me an idealist.

My favorite songs change every year.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

God has made us study partner. We need to talk about our project.

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.

I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?