‎Because if I hadn't been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive.

You told me I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating or accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror.

What the hell happened to Pluto?!

And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―not even a reaction. Not in your eyes.

Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.

How in the world was I alone? Because I wanted to be. That's all I can say. It's all that makes sense to me.

What you don't understand, you can make mean anything.