I'd forgotten how much feelings hurt.

That's you, right?' he asks me. 'Yeah.' 'Cute. Not that I, uh, think little kids are cute. Just that you were cute. I mean, you can see how you turned out to be so...oh.

I liked him first, but it doesn't matter. I still like him. That doesn't matter either. Or at least, it's not supposed to.

I'd forgotten how much feelings hurt.

I deserved the shaking and the headaches and the fact that every single time I took a breath I felt a squeezing in my chest, my heart beating even though I wished it wasn't.

I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t think he’d ever really notice me, and in the end, he didn’t.

I'd dressed up and hoped and I was so tired of doing that, so tired of dreaming and being unable to stop it despite the fact that I'd seen, maybe better than anyone here, what dreams could do to you.