I understand why you'd leave, I guess. You kind of became our running joke, didn't you? You used to be the star football player, carried in the arms of cheerleaders wherever you went, and then you quit and told everyone you wanted to become an English major with a minor in Art History. We thought you were joking.Then you started doing the speeches. God, the speeches. The "self-harm isn't a beautiful thing" speeches in the courtyard of the school. You had every depressed and alienated kid lifting up their sleeves to show everyone what they'd done, what we'd caused them to do. I remember how you always had short sleeves on that day, but your arms were as pale as they'd always been. Not a scratch on them.
