You're right . . . you can't go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can

I don't eat bread.' Is she pouting? It's hard to tell. She's had a lot of chemicals injected into her face.

Do you really think he was flirting with me?" "Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs..." He looks at the CD. "All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.

It could be enough, maybe, or at least a start, but the problem is that at night I tumble into dreams that aren't dreams at all. I tumble into memories and wake up aching for a dying world and a quiet, cold life that offered me nothing but sitting in a still room.

I think...I think sometimes that's how it is. Sometimes people have to go before you get stuff. Before you can really get it.

I don’t think I could have picked a worse guy to be my soul mate.

He looks trapped, helpless and furious, and that’s a feeling I know too well. Know how much it hurts. Know how it holds you down, how every day there are a thousand little ways to see there is nothing you can do to change who or what you are.