It's Up To The Reader To Decipher

I Repeat His Words In My Head. What's Going On? What's Going On? Oh, Well, Since You Asked, I Got A Bunch Of Tapes In The Mail Today From A Girl Who Killed Herself. Apparently, I Had Something To Do With It. I'm Not Sure What That Is, So I Was Wondering If I Could Borrow Your Walkman To Find Out. 'not Much,' I Say.

Here's A Tip. If You Touch A Girl, Even As Joke, And She Pushes You Off, Leave... Her... Alone. Don't Touch Her. Anywhere! Just Stop. Your Touch Does Nothing But Sicken Her.

Josh Turns To Me. “i Can’t Believe She’s Writing These Things.” “not She,” I Say. “me.” “why Would Anyone Say This Stuff About Themselves On The Internet? It’s Crazy!” “exactly,” I Say. “i’m Going To Be Mentally Ill In Fifteen Years, And That’s Why My Husband Doesn’t Want To Be Around Me.

A Week Went By And Nothing. But Eventually, As They Always Will, The Rumors Reached Me. And Everyone Knows You Can't Disprove A Rumor.

Watching Those Guys Pummel Each Other So No One Would Suspect Them Of Being Weak Was Too Much For Me. Their Reputations Were More Important Than Their Faces.