It's as if when you love someone, they become your reason. And maybe I've gotten it backward, maybe it's just because I need a reason that I find myself falling in love with her. But I don't think that's it. I think I would have continued along, oblivious, if I hadn't happened to meet her.

why won't they leave me alone? don't they realize I have a tinder heart and a paper body and that any spark will turn me straight to ash?

Maybe there's a way to keep us in this moment. Not the sad part. But the coming together part.

It's like, you know how sometimes you see a really sexy baby? Wait.

Even though I'm seventeen, I guess I still thought this would always be true - that there would always be that lost-and-found, and not the lost-and-still-lost that I am now trapped inside.

I was attempting to write the story of my life. It wasn't so much about plot. It was much more about character.

It's one of the secrets of strength: We're so much more likely to find it in the service of others than in service to ourselves.