I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of living.

Every tounge bit had another word to say.

Do you even know who the enemy is?" "I think... it's me".

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

Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That's above and beyond everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don't come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people's words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet.

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

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.