Life can't be cured, but it can be managed.

I'm glad you came here and got the help you needed," Neil says, and he shakes my hand in that way that people do in here to remind themselves that you're the patient and they're the doctor/volunteer/ employee. They like you, and they genuinely want you to do better, but when they shake your hand you feel that distance, that slight disconnect because they know that you're still broken somewhere, that you might snap at any moment.

Sometimes when you open a book, time stops.

She doesn't want to end up like me. At least I'm giving someone an example not to follow.

She's pretty." (It's amazing how girls can say this and make it the most withering insult.)

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

People don't make good Anchors, though, Craig. They change.