"Tell me what is wrong. Just tell me and I'll change it. I'll change."

And the voices in his head said, "We can't. We have different ideas and different thoughts. When we put them together, everything about you is wrong in every possible way. Maybe if you ask us what is right about you, everything about you will become right. But there are a thousand little versions of you walking around and talking to each other and hating and loving and crying and singing and dreaming dreaming dreaming of the truth of who you truly are or should be could be want to be and there is such hope that flickers and brushes your bright eyes open and all we can say is that we don't really know except when the silent confessions and wishes and arguments end, that is if it ever ends, and when it is still, it is still you, somehow very much you, written all over like an indelible fingerprint."