All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

She'd never in her whole life bunked school, smoked dope, or kissed a boy whose name she didn't know, and yet in the last few days, she'd done all these things.

Keep breathing. Just keep doing it. It's easy. In and out.

There's a terrible stillness. I notice a small tear in the wallpaper above her shoulder. I notice finger marks grimed on the light switch. Somewhere down in the house, a door opens and shuts. As Zoey turns to face me, I realize that life is made up of a series of moments, each one a journey to the end.

Humans are made from nuclear ash of dead stars

I want you to be with me in the dark. To hold me. To keep loving me. To help me when I get scared. To come right to the edge and see what's there.

Don't pretend to care. I don't need you as an anesthetic.