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“I'm going to live forever, Felicia."
Even before she laughed, I knew I meant it. And I'm not writing it again now like the early days, when I'd write to you because I felt guilty, because I thought I had to, because I thought I owed you something. I do owe you something, but I've learned better than to blame myself now. I suppose, all this is to say: thank you, Horatio. I know you hate that. I know you believe it. I'm going to say it anyways, even though my hand aches; I'd write it a thousand times, wear down all my tendons for you. Because I meant it, and even here, in this apartment I am trapped indefinitely in, cut off from the rest of the world by glass and steel through nothing but my own damn foolishness, I meant it. I do.
I'm going to live forever.”
― Em X. Liu, The Death I Gave Him

“And you're fifteen - fresh-face and terrified of failure - when it first makes itself known to you, this gaping hole inside you. By the time you notice, it's too late, a precipice inside your own mind that calls to you whenever you feel like you're not enough, that sings about how much easier the dark is, how nice it might feel to step off.”
― Em X. Liu, The Death I Gave Him