“How does knowing 'things could be worse' than what I already deem awful make me feel any better? You mean I could sink even lower? Oh joy!”

“I already know everything I need to know about you. I know how I feel and nothing you could tell me will make me feel any different. I wish you felt the same.”

“It kind of makes me wish that the worst thing that will ever happen to me would just hurry up and happen already. That way I could live the rest of my life in bliss, if only because I know how much worse things could be.”

“How could I do it, how could a person go that low? And I understand your question, to which I reply, Are you kidding? That's nothing. I'd been much lower than that. And I expected to see myself do worse.”

“I wash my hands, wonder how an awful day could turn even worse. It seems like at some point you'd just run out of awful.”

“Do you like me? You know, like me like me?"I cringe the moment I ask and cover my face with my hands. The smell of blood and trail dirt wafts into my nose. Something sinks inside me. What is it? Oh, I know, any dignity I could possibly have left.”