... I love books about freaks," because I am one. You might be, too. Let's be freaks together?

But isn't this a dance? Isn't all of this a dance? Isn't that what we do with words? Isn't that what we do when we talk, when we spar, when we make plans or leave it to chance? Some of it's choreographed. Some of the steps have been done for ages. And the rest -- the rest is spontaneous. The rest has to be decided on the floor, in the moment, before the music ends.

We walk into a bar, and you're aware of all the eyes on you. We walk into a bar, and I'm aware of all the eyes on you, too. For you, this translate into confidence. But me? All I can feel is doubt.

aloof, adj. It has always been my habit, ever since junior high school, to ask that question: “What are you thinking?” It is always an act of desperation, and I keep on asking, even though I know it will never work the way I want it to.

It feels like we’ve stepped outside of time. Even though there is no such place.

She is my first and only love. Most people know that their first love will not be their only love. But for me, she is both.

Game over," you say, and I don't know which I take more exception to-- the fact that you say its over, or the fact that you say it's a game.