They didn't guarantee you'd come out a whole person.

Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.

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.

What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?

At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.

She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.

I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.