So what do you have to confess now?" I don't know why I'm saying any of this, except that is the truth. "I'm confessing that I don't know if I'm ready for this." "What is 'this'?" "Being open. Being hurt. Liking. Not being liked. Seeing the flicker on. Seeing the flicker off. Leaping. Falling. Crashing.

Music is everywhere. It’s in the air between us, waiting to be sung.

I don’t want to throw everything away for something uncertain.

It feels like I am wasting time. I mean, that's always the case. My life doesn't add up to anything.

I still felt fondness for her - fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia.

I find my greatest strengths in wanting ti be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave.

Just because a person is beautiful doesn't mean there's no soul beneath. Doesn't mean that person hasn't suffered like everyone else, doesn't mean they don't hope to still be a good human being in an awful world.