I should have told You before talking in terms of Forever that any given day wears me out and works me sour, that there are nights when the sky is so clear I stand obnoxious underneath it begging for the stars to shoot at me just so I can feel at Home.

We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.

Knowing me is easy. You can still twist your hair and feel silly. Look up the word tacky and have a salad. But when we're together you pull bread apart with your fingers into bites sometimes so small I gotta remind you, Peach, it is okay to be hungry.

We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You go ahead, call 9-1-1. Tell them I'm havin' a fantastic time.

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

Stop inviting walls into wide open spaces.

If I didn't have so much of this life all wrong I would have gotten it right by now.