“The psyche questionnaire asks me to list the things I dislike. Why don’t they just use the word, hate? Why is everyone so afraid to admit they hate something? I write Advil, and then add Athens, Afghanistan and the U.S. Army. “In conclusion, I hate a lot of things that begin with the letter A,” I write in the space provided.”

“I’ve told too many lies. I hold too many secrets. Who can I really trust? Who can trust me when I don’t even trust myself?”

“Am I Carrie, now? I sway with the movement of the elevator. I close my eyes and try to think. I could never be Carrie. No one can. That’s the thing. Always. I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I can feel the tears sting behind my eyes. I can never be Carrie. Now, I can’t even be Ellie.”

“God, why have you done this to me? My little prayer goes unanswered.”

“I guess that’s how it goes. Opposites attract. He was the sunshine to my rain. He could find the best in an ordinary day of clouds and I gravitated towards his rays. He taught me how wonderful life could be and he gave me so much. And for that, I am truly grateful.”

“Me, all seeing. He, blind and unseeing, but, somehow, seeing it all so clearly. I envy him.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not scared,” I say airily. “Are you ever?” “All the time. Normally. All the time.”