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.

I feel dead, wasted, awful, broken and useless. It's not the kind of feeling you forget.

I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine - I'm here." "Is there something wrong with that?" "Absolutely.

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

It's such a silly little thing, the heart.

I want to live but I want to die. What do I do?

I don't owe people anything, and I don't have to talk to them any more than I feel I need to.