Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.

That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.

Our eyes met across the crowded room, like in the movies, except we didn't share a knowing smile and race into each other's arms. Instead I fell into the trash can.

Girls scare me more than boys. Boys are cruel. Girls are mean.

...When I asked [my dad why the sky was blue] he said it was because God's a boy. If God were a girl, the sky would be pink. 'What about sunrise and sunset?' I'd asked. Dad had looked dumbfounded. 'You kids. You think too much.' It frightened me how shallow the gene pool was that Liam and I were wading in.

I don't have to answer. Until you know the question.

I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.