Stone.

I wonder if the feeling right before someone dies is anything like this.

Numb. Cold. Blank. Like a gray granite countertop.

Or is granite too pretty of a countertop?

I feel ugly.

This feeling is making me sick.

Nick's so happy. She says she doesn't have a reason. I'm confused.

She's just doing it for my sake. Trying to make me feel better. She cares about me.

I don't deserve

Maybe I won't finish that sentence.

I could list a thousand things I don't deserve.

My own love.

Mick's love.

God's love.

Acceptance.

Hope.

Happiness.

Worth.

I don't even deserve to deserve anything.

I only have two of the above right now. I'll give you a hint: They're the two most important.

I'll give you another hint: It's not the first one.

I'd hate to die like this.

Because I feel like the old me.

And the old me put a five for chance of going to heaven.

That his parents manipulated him into putting a 10.

I wish they could just let me be honest to myself for once.

That's why I have Mick and the hours between 10 PM and 5 AM.

I don't want to feel like this the next time I see Mark.

Because I won't make it out of that office without breaking.

God, give me anything...