“Maybe this is why I sleep only a few hours a month. I don't want to die again. This has become clearer and clearer to me recently, a desire so sharp and focused I can hardly believe it's mine: I don't want to die. I don't want to disappear. I want to stay.”
“I don't want to die, I thought. Not again.”
“If that was dying, I don't want to do it again.”
“I don't want to die, but I don't want to be the only one to live, either. When I was sitting alone last night, I kind of figured maybe that's how Jesus felt.”
“I so want to meet the other women. I hear their voices, their weeping. Maybe they can explain to me why we're here. Or maybe I don't want to know.”
“I don't want to die, but I don't want to live either. I'm scared to live and scared to die.”