“I wish i had been there to hold his hand,brush the dark hair away from his cloudy blue eyes..whisper to him over and over that he was loved..”

“I visit him a few times downtownwhile he paints.We talk about how he's going to Spainfor the fall semesterand he shows me a painting he didand points to this one part,a bridge, and tells me he thought of mewhen he painted it.It is so sadhow knowing somethingso smallcan make me so happy.”

“I have been telling myselfthat these feelings are new,but they aren't,I just didn't connect them before”

“I am fearful of romantic dinners,huge crowds, dusk -of normal things-afraid to be loved,the one thing I want most.Maybe it's because I don't think I deserve itbecause I am not that perfectlittle girl that I was supposed to be,well manicured and well groomed,because I have nervous breakdowns,and take pills,and keep moving on.”

“I can't believeno one else can hearI am screaminginside my head.Things are moving too fast. I am going to die.I am going to die. I am going to die.My hands are shaking.I try to squeeze them, try to make it stop,but now my fists are shaking,and this shaking is working it's way through me.It must look like I am having a fit.I want to let the scream out, but I think if I start, I'll never stop.It's not supposed to be like this.I am too young to die. I don't know how to make this end,and if it doesn't, I'll have to go to the hospital,be medicated, force-fed soft foods.I don't want to be that person.I am not that person.I am not. I am not.”

“I am in a house. I am in one room and my anxiety is in another. It's close. I can feel it. I can go to it. But I won't.”

“I crave broken men.When I try to save other peopleam I trying to save myself?Am I covering up for my lack of strengthby putting people back together?I am tired.I want someone to save me - build an intricate weband place it beneath me in case I fall.”