Life is not cured, Mr. Gilner." Dr. Mahmoud leans in. "Life is managed.

So why am I depressed? That's the million-dollar question, baby, the Tootsie Roll question; not even the owl knows the answer to that one. I don't know either. All I know is the chronology.

I'm jealous of her. Can you be jealous of your mom for being able to handle things? I couldn't take a day off, take a dog to the vet, and cook dinner. That's like three times too much stuff for me to get done in one day. How am I ever going to have my own house?

I like how you don't hide your problems like everyone else, and I don't have to hide mine when I'm around you.

And I could have died right then. And considering how things went, I really should have.

They're sort of ancillary anyway, friends. I mean, they're important -- everybody knows that; the TV tells you so -- but they come and go. You lose one friend, you pick up another.

I just want to not be me.