I'm ready to kill something. I'll probably only get as far as my brain cells, but I am going to kill them.

There was a typewriter buried alive in that horse, the one I road to get out of the flood.

I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better.

But I still show up for gentleman practice in the company of lead dancers, hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.

...all these kids you can't seem to make sense of would stop holding you so far off the edge of your seats if you'd start holding yourselves to the promises you make. We know you're not perfect, because we're not. And I know I'm not perfect, but I believe I was meant to be.

Jordan tattoos the words "forgive me" in thick black letters down the inside of his arm so that when he looks at his wrist he will remember not to hate himself so much. What he keeps forgetting is that there is life after survival.

Pretend – inside your skin – you've got a friend, who's willing to give you everything you ever wanted in exchange for all you've ever been.