Then teach me how to not care about someone who was everything to me. All I want is to know she's okay. Is that too much to ask?

I hate this feeling. Like I'm here, but I'm not. Like someone cares. But they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.

Girls are impossible to satisfy." "Not every girl." Not me. I'd be happy if he'd just like me a little.

You'll only find happy endings in books. Some books.

Love is more than blind. It’s brain-dead.

Kaeleigh, queen of passive, all the time saying no, but not strong enough to mean it.

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.