Things are not magical because they've been conjured for us by some outside force. They are magical because we create them.

... I love books about freaks," because I am one. You might be, too. Let's be freaks together?

I'll see you later, he says, and as he does, he runs his finger briefly over my wrist. It passes over me like air, and makes me shiver like a kiss.

Things rarely get fixed the way they need to be.

It feels like we’ve stepped outside of time. Even though there is no such place.

I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

Everyone tried with me. And everytime, it felt like the whole point of life was to see if trying was ever enough.