I've had good moments scattered since then, times when I thought I was better, but that was the last day I felt triumphant.

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'm going to be here until I'm cured?" "Life is not cured, Mr. Gilner. Life is managed".

I want my brain to slide back into the slot it was meant to be in, rest there the way it did before the fall of last year, back when I was young, witty, and my teachers said I had incredible promise.

Nobody had told me I was common.

They always said on TV you could do anything you wanted, but here I was trying to do something and it wasn't working. I would never be able to do it.

I had fooled myself into thinking that I was something important to the rest of the world.