I want to take back at least half of the “I love you”s, because I didn’t mean them as much as the other ones.

Family, like arsenic, works best in small doses...unless you prefer to die.

Fate has a strange way of making plans.

I learn about the highs and lows of living with the same mother for your entire life, about how no one can make you angrier, but how you can't really love anyone more.

Moments into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into years. Years into possibility. This will linger.

You spend so much time, so much effort, trying to hold yourself together. And then everything falls apart anyway.

Self-esteem can be so exhausting. I want to cut my hair, change my clothes, erase the pimple from the near-tip of my nose, and strengthen my upper-arm definition, all in the next hour.