I had really great parents who always gave me lots of opportunity for choice, but I didnt always realize how rare that was for a girl for them to say, You can be a mom or have a career or do both or do something we havent thought of yet.

Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.

The beauty of dystopia is that it lets us vicariously experience future worlds - but we still have the power to change our own.

In the end you can't always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.

Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?

Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle-it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act if self-preservation. It's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?

I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.