I say good-bye to hope, but I also say good-bye to hope's disappointment.

The boy I just kissed is talking to my father. The boy I want to kiss again is waiting for my mother to serve pancakes. I must fight the urge to freak.

I had forgotten this about love: how the simple things- the turn away, the turn towards- could be so complicated, and how the complicated things- the stolen night, the right words- could be so simple.

This is the thing they don't tell you about being a third wheel - it's not like you're the wheel that's added on. You were one of the original two wheels, but suddenly you're not so important anymore. The relationship drives fine without you.

Measure the hope of that moment, that feeling. Everything else will be measured against it.

I get it. The things you hope for the most are the things that destroy you in the end.

I have no more idea now of who I am than I did before. But at least I know that. And I'm starting to figure out who I want to be.