Oh sure. Because we always talk about deep down stuff.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don’t fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.
I don’t have alot of people to talk to. Not alot of people are worth my time.
But you’d sell your soul for it, wouldn’t you? For one day of feeling beautiful.
People don’t change. There are two kinds of people in the world: winners and losers. Black and white. I don’t know where gray fits in, or if you can even live in that shade.
Why am I here? What’s my purpose?
As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.
My parents will be sad for a while, and they may even blame themselves, the way they do now. Eventually they’ll come to peace with my decision. I hope they’ll realize I’m finally at peace.
Never question the sanity of a woman who can render you defenseless with a look.
What did she see in me? What does she see that I don’t?
Don’t choose me. I’m not worth your time.
This is my fault. Mine. Making her think I’d be here for her.
What I know is you can’t go back. You can’t press delete and re-key your life.
I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.
How will you be remembered? As a loner and a loser.
Trust. That was what this was all about. If you can’t trust the one you love, you don’t have anything.
But I’m no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in; letting the secret blacken me.
I never defended myself. Not once. I never said, “Excuse me? What gives you the right to insult and demean me?” I let them steal my dignity.
Take it as a token. Because tomorrow when I go, I want you to believe friends are possible.
This is my vision-what I imagine I’ll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.