“I hear everything he’s saying, but mentally I’m picturing a sword hidden in my body like some medieval tampon, and suddenly, I’m afraid to sit down”
“Are you afraid of falling, baby?No, I’m afraid of landing.[He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.]Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?”
“Tampons. I’m constantly worrying about my stash and if I’ll be able to find more.”
“Dying really isn’t so bad after you’ve done it once. And I have. I’m not afraid of death anymore. I’m afraid of everything else.”
“Are you ever afraid to go to sleep? Afraid of what comes next?”He smiles a sad little smile and I swear it’s like he knows. “Sometimes I’m afraid of what I’m leaving behind,” he says.”
“If I’m happy, my eyes are chestnut; if I’m surprised, my eyes are hazelnut; if I’m afraid, my eyes look like they just shit themselves; and if I’m crying, my eyes get lighter and greener, like an anorexic leprechaun.”