Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Or is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?

And If only I could, I'd make a deal with God.

me: you know what sucks about love? o.w.g.: what? me: that it's so tied to the truth.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

You have to trust the words. They do not create anything more than themselves.

I had gotten so used to being alone, but never entirely used to it. Never used to it enough to stop wanting the alternative.

Her vulnerability is open, but she’s safe within it.