She became a story, one I have mostly forgotten. One I can't end because she died a long time ago.

Sometimes being me is very confusing.

Things end. People leave. And you know what? Life goes on. Besides, if bad things didn't happen, how would you be able to feel the good ones?

Why do people think being with someone is the answer to everything?

The world will knock you down plenty. You don't need to be doing it to yourself.

Cute" is one of those words people use when they know you're smart enough to realize "you've got so much personality" means "you're ugly.

I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.