Every single answer starts with the phrase 'I don't know.' But most of the time she does know, if I give her the time and the space in which to answer.

You know, I'd get a tattoo with your name on it. Only, I want you to have the freedom to change your name if you want to.

I am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me.

Maybe language is kind, giving us these double meanings. Maybe it's trying to teach us a lesson, that we can always be two things at once.

But if I didn’t want to be alone, then why didn’t I want to be with anyone else?

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 am stronger than words and I am bigger than the box I'm in, and then I see her in the crowd and I fall apart.