Anger was a waste of time and energy. Anger was useless."Anger" was the label given to the emotion that accomplished nothing.

Maybe Rachel was right all along. Maybe the past is past, history is history, and you just push it aside and look for the future.

And my parents made me want i am. So what? We get stuff from our parents, but we also get stuff from the world around us. From people around us. And at the end of the day, we're us.

...called nine-one-one," Howie was saying, "and then I heard something in the alleyway, so I went back there and" --Howie coughed-- "and valiantly attacked his knife with my guts, to no avail." "Did you get a good look at him? Could you describe him?" Howie smiled wanly. "Yeah. He was about yay long" --he held up his hands, four inches apart-- "thin, made of steel. Pointy. Sharp.

Yes, pain meant life. But the symmetric property did not apply; Life did not mean pain.

Unreal. I'm feeling nostalgic for something that happened less than twenty-four hours ago. This has got to be a record.

You can't rely on love. Love will let you down every time. Every. Single. Time. I don't love Jecca. I don't love Fanboy. But... God, the buts in life will kill you absolutely every time, won't they. I don't love. But I need. I can admit that to myself.