“You know after I sent that kid to the hospital years ago they said I had an anger problem, but that's not true. I was angry because of something else. Something I'd lost. Trying so hard since not to be angry got me all defenseless and I lost more, and more, and more... that's not getting better. I want to be angry. When I ran home from college, on the bus I had this dream... or maybe I saw it out the window, last leaf on the tree finally blown off. I'm so scared all the time, and the fear hurts, feeling like everything is over... was over long before I got here, so long, hiding or trying to outrun this. I get it. This won't stop until I die. But when I die I want it to hurt. When my friends leave, when I have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I'm thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens I want to hope again and I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something. It means I am... something, at least. Pretty amazing to be something at least.”