We want what you no longer want.

I have no idea,' he tells her, and there is such a spark in his eye when he says it, she can tell having no idea is exactly the way he wants it.

How can you do the right thing when you can't figure out what that is? When all you have before you are choices in various shades of wrong?

They were the screams of riders torn apart by the twisted reflections of their own inner selves.

Dead kids are put on pedestals, but mentally ill kids get hidden under the rug.

does a sick society get so used to its illness that it can't remember being well? what if the memory is too dangerous for the people who like things the way they are?

Fight, flight, and screw up royaly.