“Why, Maysie? What more do you need me to tell you? Haven't I already handed my fucking guts to you on a platter? What else do you need to hear?”

“But you don't know what I want, do you. You formed an idea of who I am and What I do, and you've woven that idea in your life. You may listen to my words, but you don't hear my thoughts. You don't hear my needs. You don't see me. You haven't seen me in years.”

“Do you need to hear that I haven't stopped missing you for one single since we broke up? Do I have to tell you that my heart hurts with how much I love you?”

“To whomever is writing this book, what do you want from me? I need to know my calling. Why was I chosen? Why not Lee? Why not Susan March? Why me? What is my purpose? Please let it be more than to destroy a life and embarrass another. I need to know. I am suffering. You are a constant headache. Anywhere I go, I can hear you, I can feel you. I want to be like the others, ignorant of this.”

“If what we are doing isn't enough for you, I need you to tell me now.”

“Blaire, tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do whatever it is you need.”