“I don't know what came over me. It's like sometimes when it's very quiet I feel like screaming. And sometimes when I'm holding something delicate I feel like dropping it. I don't know why.”

“I want to hold onto this funny thing. God, it's gotten big on me. I don't know what it is. I'm so damned unhappy, I'm so mad, and I don't know why. I feel like I'm putting on weight. I feel fat. I feel like I'm saving a lot of things, and I don't know what. I might even start reading books.”

“When I'm with you, I don't feel self-conscious or like I'm crippled or ugly. I don't know how you do that, but it's nice.”

“Sometimes I see the future and it's like I'm a blank. I mean I know what I'll look like, that I'll exist. But I don't know who I'll be or who will be with me. At least I know who I'm not and who won't be with me.”

“Maybe I don't feel what others feel. I have no way of knowing. But I do feel. It's just that what I feel does not elicit tears. What I feel when others cry is more like a dry, empty aloneness, like I'm the only person left in the world.”

“There's something wrong inside of me," she said. "I don't know at it is. It feels big and heavy and sometimes it makes it hard to breathe." She lifted her hands eyes. "And tears keep leaking out of my eyes. Is this what sadness feels like?" "That's what it feels like for me." I replied. "It's funny. I've heard about it in a lot of the stories I've collected, but I never knew it felt like this before." She sighed "it's so heavy......" "I know." I replied "I know.”