“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?”

“Starving for a high, a place to hang out inside my own head. Starving for touch. Pain, even. A way to feel. I need to feel.”

“Even without them touching me, I feel dirty about what I do. Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap. I don’t believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.”

“I hear. Nobody thinks so. But I do. Sometimes people whisper. Sometimes they yell. Sometimes they say mean things. I see more than the TV. It's my friend. I don't have any others, like the kids on Barney do. Why are people afraid of me? I don't want to hurt them. I taste only the sweet air, whooshed through tubes to help me breathe. If I'm lucky a bit of flavor comes with the wind or skin or clothes I smell. I wish my mouth would let me tell Mama I love her. Let me tell Daddy I ms him. Let me tell Shane how good I feel when I see him happy with Alex. I like when I swim because when I float, I am free. I like when I sleep because I dance when I dream. I hear, I see, I taste, I smell, I feel, I dream.”

“I've Got A Little ProblemAnd I'm not really sure how to fix it.Not really sure I need to. Not really sure I could.Life is pretty good. But once in a while, uninvited and uninitiated anger invades me.It starts, a tiny gnaw at the back of my brain. Like a migraine except without pain. They say headaches blossom, but this isn't so much a blooming as a bleeding. Irritation bleeds into rage, seethes into fury. An ulcer, emptying hatred inside me. And I don't know why. Life is pretty good.So, what the hell?”

“It's just so hard to feel good, you know?" I do know. And more than that, it's just so incredibly hard to feel.”

“I fell into a big pit of black depression. That happens sometimes, when too much shit gets flung at me at once. It's like all the external pressure sucks into me, then tries to escape again. But it can't. So it builds. Throbs. Makes me feel like my skin is anxious to split. I think that feeling is why some people cut - little slices so they don't shred completely.”