me: just don't ask about his forty-three ex-boyfriends, okay? or ask him about why he's carrying around an axe. mom:... me: i'm kidding about the axe part.

You wanna-I dunno-get coffee or something sometime?

That strange, twisted, torn love. That conflict between what your heart knows is right and what your mind is told is right.

I only have eyes for you.

I had no idea what I wanted, only that I wanted something, which is the worst kind of wanting.

After a while, you have to be at peace with the fact that you simple are

The first sentence of the truth is always the hardest. Each of us had a first sentence, and most of us found the strength to say it out loud to someone who deserved to hear it. What we hoped, and what we found, was that the second sentence of the truth is always easier than the first, and the third sentence is even easier than that. Suddenly you are speaking the truth in paragraphs, in pages. The fear, the nervousness, is still there, but it is joined by a new confidence. All along, you've used the first sentence as a lock. But now you find that it's the key.