I know it's hard on her. If I don't tell her she'll kill me." He pauses. "That was supposed to be funny.

I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.

How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.

But you'd sell your soul for it, wouldn't you? For one day of feeling beautiful.

I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.

Because no one can be trusted.

I close my eyes and black out the day. The exhaustion of living through it, surviving.