"You're right," I say, turning to look at him, blank-faced and calm... but that fragile sorta calm that's right on the edge of being something else, "It's really fuckin' pathetic."

"He's not better off without you. He loves you, man, and you're --" It's not what he wants to hear, but it sounds too fucking familiar, and all the sudden it's all I can do not to punch him in the fucking face.