“... Then he did a strange thing. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm." "I died. That was like the sweetest thing.”

“That earns him a smack with my book bag."Ow." He clutches his arm. "What do you have in there? Books?" A grin snakes across his face. "I like my women feisty."He adds, "I like my broken.”

“My name, from his lips. It still made my heart leap.”

“You still have," I looked at my watch, "twelve seconds to change your mind. Find someone else and save your reputation."One side of his lip cricked up. "I found you. I'll take my chances.”

“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”

“I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.”

“Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don't want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.”