My brain hurts and I cry all the time. I don't want to be here on Earth for one moment longer.

I guess I have a lot of emotion stored up. But it's nothing bad. It's love. It's just love rotting up inside of me . . . That's it . . . I have too much love, I think, and nobody to give it to.

In the distance, people were living lives, having fun, learning, making money, fighting and walking around and falling in and out of love. People were being born, growing up, dropping dead. Trevor was probably spending his Christmas vacation with some woman in Hawaii or Bali or Tulum. He was probably fingering her at that very moment, telling her he loved her. He might actually be happy. I shut the window and lowered all the blinds.

It's the map of my childhood, my sadness, my Eden, my hell and home.

That's fair," I said, though my feelings were already hurt.

I tell him I wish I could stay with him, but not here, not on Earth. Earth is the wrong place for me, always was and will be until the day I die.

It's a lonely life.

It had been a long time since I'd gone anyplace I wanted to be.