When we’re alone together, I’m the destination. When I’m here in her life at school, I’m the disruption.

The unwarranted devotion. Putting up with the fear of being with the wrong person because you can't deal with the fear of being alone. The hope tinged with doubt, and the doubt tinged with hope. Every time I see these feelings in someone else's face, it weighs me down.

People are always separable.

I’ve found that people tend to trust other people who dress like them.

It's almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.

Because sometimes you just have to dance like a madman in the Self-Help section of your local bookstore.

The world is quieter now. It is never quiet, but it can get quieter. What strange creatures we are, to find silence peaceful, when permanent silence is the thing we most dread. Nighttime is not that. Nighttime still rustles, still creaks and whispers and trembles in its throat. It is not darkness we fear, but our own helplessness within it. How merciful to have been granted the other senses.