Funny thing about the monster. The worse he treats you, the more you love him.

My body Healed quickly. But the wound to my psyche was deep. Wide. First aid, too little, too late, left me hemorrhaging inside, the blood unstaunched by psychological bandage or love's healing magic. Eventually it scabbed over, a thick, ugly welt of memory. I work to conceal it, but no matter how hard I try, once in a while something makes me pick at it until the scarring bleeds. In my arms, Ashante cries, innocence ripped apart by circumstance. Bloodied by inhuman will. Time will prove a tourniquet. But she will always be at risk of infection. (124)

Happiness is a bull's-eye, awaiting arrows of pain.

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

But hey, I'm not exactly sold on the idea that love is, in fact, real. Will it find me one day, overtake me, infiltrate my life like sunlight snakes through the cold of morning? Can love thaw me? will it ever?

you fly until you crash two days two nights no sleep, no food, come down off the monster YOU CRASH REAL HARD

Commitment means losing yourself to gain something temporary. Nothing lasts. Not looks. Not love.