Dying, not dead. And that's beside the point. You cried, which means you care.
I still feel starved, alright? I know it's psychosomatic, but it won't go away and it hurts. It hurts so much, Doctor, my whole body aches with need and it just keeps getting worse. Please, Doctor, help me. You're supposed to help people, why won't you help me?
Then you can stay and keep an eye on me, whatever. It doesn't really matter in the end. *He glares at the Doctor for a bit, then punches the wall.* This is why I let myself die last time, you know that? Because I was afraid it would be like this. You catch more flies with honey, Doctor--if you'd just give me some reason to be good I might try it. But no, you have to glower at me and pretend I don't matter to you and yell whenever I say something you don't approve of. Idiot.