And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I'm alive, despite this living death.

Love can complete you. It can also destroy you.

What's the point of being a hero when everyone thinks you're a villain?

...what good would it do to shutter your windows, never dream of rainbows or find hope in promises? Why choose to walk away rather than hold your ground and fight for love?

School used to be an escape. Now it's just another place with too much pressure, too much confrontation, & so not enough joy.

Memory is a tenuous thing. . . . flickering glimpses, blue and white, like ancient, decomposing 16mm film. Happiness escapes me there, where faces are vague and yesterday seems to come tied up in ribbons of pain. Happiness? I look for it intead in today, where memory is something I can still touch, still rely on. I find it in the smiles of new friends, the hope blossoming inside. My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.

One kiss, I was totally hooked.