Knives whisper "It could be you". Knives whisper "It 
could be any of us". We are all facing the end, and we 
wanted more than this. Here are our scars, here is what 
is left. "I love you" will not be enough to save us this 
time. Let it rain until our final days, let it wash this 
all way. I can count all of my friends on one hand, but I 
ever made that call, they would be there. I would never 
have survived what you went through. I was always too 
busy hating the sound of my voice to speak up, too busy 
hating the way that I looked to fight for what was truly 
needed. So let us toast to you and all of our broken 
lives, the ones that we lived, the ones that we were 
never meant to survive.