I-I don't usually go around throwing rocks at people's windows. Or saying that I've wanted to kiss you since your first day at work, when you wanted to know why we had three codes for fish sandwiches when we only sold one kind.

My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember

I think love is huge, overwhelming. I think it's terrible and beautiful.

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.

...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.

Okay, I guess you can come in." "Um, Hannah, you have to, you know, open the front door so I can actually come in." "I thought you were going to - you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something?" "My ladder's at home. Also, you call throwing rocks at your window clichéd?