Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

Five hundred souls. I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd throw them over my shoulder. It was only the the children I carried in my arms.

And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.

Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.

Very suddenly. Yes, quite suddenly, I didn't feel like I could handle my feeling of aloneness.

It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.