If I had eyes, if I had eyelids, if I had tear ducts . . . I would cry, right now. I never would've admitted crying in my entire life. I hardly did it. Only when I was a kid. Who cries? What does crying even mean? Because so many people cry for stupid reasons. Like some person they liked didn't talk to them. Or they didn't make it into some college. But then real things happen—real things like people die or get hurt—and they can't cry at all. So what is crying? Nothing important, for those kind of people. But then you have people who never cry. People who just keep all the things that frustrate or hurt them to themselves. And when big things happen, that's when they break. That's when they can't hold it together anymore. And this is the point where I feel like it's over. I've lost this game. If I could cry, I would.

I know they're falling, like I did. If I had used my brain, I might've been able to see that they were no better off than me. I might've been less selfish. Now, I have no brain, and I can see that they're both totally, completely lost. And it's my fault. I talk like they did this to me. But really, we do it to each other. They murdered me. But by doing this, I am murdering them.