Look at me. We aren´t them lauren. You´re not your mother or father any more than I´m my mother. You´re you and I´m me and I love you.

Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.

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

I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.

And what if---what are you if the people who are supposed to love you can leave you like you're nothing?

I think you’re the saddest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re drowning in it.

I never went for the talkers.