Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

There was one thing Bridget like about guys. They took insults well.

She spilled rice on my knee, and she smiled. I wanted her to spill a thousand things on me, lava, acid, bricks, anything, and smile each time

Try, reach, want, and you may fall. But even if you do, you might be okay anyway. If you don't try, you save nothing, because you might as well be dead.

Because she was raw and uncertain, and she liked to keep all the messy parts of herself to herself. ... As much as Lena liked to hide the mess and display the finished product, by this point she was all mess and no product.

I did the searching and remembering, she did the disappearing and the forgetting.

You carry your past with you even if you don't remember any of it.