However cozy things seemed, the facts of life were the same. You couldn't escape death: It would get us all in the end.

We all know that everything will end some day, but we can not let that slow us. We must not let that stop us from living.

You can not escape death: the end always reach you.

And then, a strangely comforting thought trickled through me—I had nothing, so I could do anything now. Anything I wanted. I had nothing left to lose.

I was tired of being me.

People just don't seem to get me. Don't understand that I need my space. Always telling me what to do. They think rules and routines and clean hands and your p's and q's will make everything all right. They haven't got a clue.