In the next election, I'm voting for your mom to be the next God.

In the next election, I'm voting for your mom to be the next God.

Her mind is an unquiet one, words and thoughts and impulses constantly crashing into each other.

You like him because he's a lost boy. Believe me, I've seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to girls who love lost boys? They become lost themselves. Without fail.

There is no word for our kind of friendship. Two people who don't see each other a lot, but can make each other effortlessly happy

I would always wait to take you home.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.