“I probably always will be. But I’ve been mad all my life, and I finally figured out that I couldn’t keep carrying that with me. It’s too heavy and I’m too tired. Time will take care of it, like it does everything else.”

“I’ve always been about pain. In fact, I’m quite incapable of writing anything else, nor would I want to. Where does it come from? Probably the life I’ve lived.”

“I’m too tired to fight against you anymore, too tired to say you are wrong. Too tired apologizing, keeping me uping all nighting- criming by wasting my precious timing. Straggling against what I once called charming.”

“I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.”

“You said before that you were tired. Well, I’m tired, too. Tired of letting everything stay unsaid. We spend all our time together, and we do it because we want to, right? And I guess I think a lot about that, and about us. And about … well, more. Us having more. It’s not about lust or sex or whatever you want to call it. I mean, some of it is that. But mostly it’s about belonging. When I’m with you, I belong. It just naturally felt like that. And I think it felt like that for you. But I don’t know where that leaves us, or even what that is. I’m just tired of trying to figure it out myself. I need the other half of the equation.”

“Why can’t the world hear? I ask myself. Within a few moments I ask it many times. Because it doesn’t care, I finally answer, and I know I’m right. It’s like I’ve been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask.”