“One of the things that makes me who I am is the loyalty I have to people I hold close to my heart.”

“If I could hold your heart I would keep it safe. Even when I trip and fall, and even when I break down, I would hold your heart close to mine, so it doesn't see the same damage. When I bruise my knees and scrape my palms you'll never have to fear, and even if I cry, I promise, you won't need to shed a tear. Love is everlasting. Loyalty is intertwined with faith. As long as you want me I will be here, standing with my palms out, waiting with my heart plain in my eyes, and a smile on my face.”

“My close friends are fond of telling me that I put the “yalt” in loyalty. Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far with it, but yeah, I guess I am a pretty yalty person.”

“I have never given my heart to anybody. I didn’t know I had one. But I gave it to you. That makes me vulnerable. I am at your mercy.”

“Although we know the end of the maze holds death (and it is something I have not always known--not long ago the adolescent in me thought death could happen only to other people), I see now that the path I choose through that maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being--one of many ways--and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming.”

“I close my eyes and I let my body shut itself down and I let my mind wander. It wanders to a familiar place. A place I don’t talk about or acknowledge exists. A place where there is only me. A place that I hate. I am alone. Alone here and alone in the world. Alone in my heart and alone in my mind. Alone everywhere, all the time, for as long as I can remember. Alone with my Family, alone with my friends, alone in a Room full of People. Alone when I wake, alone through each awful day, alone when I finally meet the blackness. I am alone in my horror. Alone in my horror. I don’t want to be alone. I have never wanted to be alone. I fucking hate it. I hate that I have no one to talk to, I hate that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right. I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and dreams with, I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams, I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again. I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness. I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me learn how to stop screaming. . . More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone. More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn’t alone.”