Yeah, I loved her. I couldn't help it. She was my brother.

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.

Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don't want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.

There's no reason to speak. I have nothing to say.

Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.

Why couldn't I have a fatal disease? It'd be so much easier.

This is my fault. Mine. Making her think I'd be here for her.