Yes, I was good at reading people. I studied them so I could put them in my novels.

The nurse knocked softly on the door of the examining room and wheeled in a shiny silver tray displaying neatly arranged instruments of torture.

The TV said you should ignore bullies and they would stop harassing you. In practice this worked about half the time. The other half, you ended up with two tall boys shadowing you through a trailer park, their fingers taking little nips at your clothes, like dogs.

Your lot in life? A lot is something you draw, like straws. It's chance. You didn't get this life by chance. You chose it on purpose. If you're dissatisfied from it, you can change it.

My mistake was assuming that when I got to college, people would not be such assholes.

It's easier to remember your lies if they're close to the truth.

Or that I couldn't stand to watch anything bad happen to you, because it was like it was happening to me too. Is that love?