If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.

The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.

We fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner.

What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.