Maybe you should say goodbye, Cal.' 'No.' 'It might be important.' 'It might make her die.
Don't pretend to care. I don't need you as an anesthetic.
Like a tree losing its leaves. I forget even the thing I was thinking.
I lean back on the pillows and look at the corners of the room. When I was a kid, I always wanted to live on the ceiling - it looked so clean and uncluttered, like the top of a cake.
We make patterns, we share moments.
I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.