She transforms once again into someone carefree, and I transform into someone whose only care is her.

I want to talk to you and be random with you and be ridiculous with you.

Part of growing up is making sure your sense of reality isn't entirely grounded in your own mind.

Tell me a way you think this can work." "We'll find a way," I tell her. "That's not an answer. It's a hope." "Hope's gotten us this far. Not answers.

you’d think that silence would be peaceful. but really, it’s painful.

Maybe your history just repeats and repeats until it batters you enough to snap the seams that hold you together

It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored.