“All I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults. It's nights like these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain.”

“I hate this feeling. Like I'm here, but I'm not. Like someone cares. But they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.”

“Concentrate. Level the sight. Breathe in.Ease the trigger. And relax?BLAP! The can somersaulted across the sand.Pride swelled till I thought I'd burst.But my pride slipped at Dad's reality check.Not bad. Pretty good, in fact. For a girl.”

“I don't need more pain in my life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?”

“SmokeYou stand infront of me,pretending to be solid,but you are nothing morethan smoke and mirors. You said you'd never leave,that you would care for us forever,but now you claim youcannot stay?That you've been called away.When you go,who will i turn to when it allcrashes down?Tell me who.Then tell me,how I can believeanone again, if all your promises have been lies.”

“Funny how when your life is mostly bullshit, you turn off feeling.Sometimes it's hard to turn it back on again.”

“Wish you could turn off the questions, turn off the voices, turn off all sound.Yearn to close out the ugliness, close out the filthiness, close out all light.Long to cast away yesterday, cast away memory, cast away all jeapordy.Pray you could somehow stop uncertainty, somehow stop the loathing, somehow stop the pain.Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest.”