I don't love you, Lena. Do you hear me? I never love you.

It's as though the words are trapped, buried under past fears, past lives, like fossils compressed under layers of dirt.

I think of the quietness of Julian's voice as he said I love you, the steadiness of his rib cage rising and falling against my back, as we sleep.I love you, Julian. But the words don't come.

I know some of you are Thinking maybe I deserved it. But before you start pointing Fringers, let me ask you Is what I did really so bad? So bad I deserved to die? So bad I deserved to die like that? Is what I did really much worse Then what anybody else does? Is it really so much worse Than what you do?

How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?

Unhappiness is bondage; therefore, happiness is freedom.

In my head I try and reach back, through the fence, past the smoke; I try and grab his hand and pull. Alex, come back. There is nothing to do but sink. The hours close around me, encase me completely, like a tomb.