I wish I was invisible to him, to everyone.
Why couldn't I have a fatal disease? It'd be so much easier.
Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.
Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be . . . impure.
Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.
What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?