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.

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'm sorry you don't get it, Mom. Sometimes I don't get why I do the things I do. I just know I wake up every morning and wish I was dead.

...the man of my dreams is a girl.

I hear you. I just don't believe a word you say.

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

As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.