I don't have alot of people to talk to. Not alot of people are worth my time.
There's no reason to speak. I have nothing to say.
I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.
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.
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.
I shouldn't have been there. I should never have been born.