“Stop trying to save me. You couldn't then; you can't now.”

“You can't trust machines. You can't trust people.”

“What I know is you can't go back. You can't press delete and re-key your life.”

“I'd decided to write him and tell him to leave me alone. Please, in a nice way, go away, I really can't deal with you.”

“Trust. That was what this was all about. If you can't trust the one you love, you don't have anything.”

“She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.”

“During those times, they'd stand there watching me watching them. I'd pray, please. Put a pillow to my face. Clench a hand around my throat. Stab me. Shoot me. Put me out of everyone's misery.Why did you give birth to such a loser? Why didn't you admit I was hopeless and fat and stop trying to make me fit in? This world wasn't meant for me. I was born too soon or too late. Too defective.I wish I could tell my parents, "If you want to help me, help me die."I wonder, Are they required to fill out a 24-hour suicide watch form? Is the Defect at home? Check. Is It alive? Check.Why did they bother with the constructive surgery on my throat anyway? Waste of money. They threw away or hid from me everything with sharp edges or breakables. Picture frames. Pottery. Did they think they could suicide-proof this place?I want to tell them, "Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person”