Something given, something taken away. Does it always have to work like that?

The truth and its opposite are flip sides of the same coin.

This is myself, baby. All of my selves. I own each and every one of them. I know who I'm pretending to be and who I am." The look he gives me is withering. "Do you?

I don't really care. I shouldn't have to care. I shouldn't have to work this hard. I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard.

But it's a big ocean. It's an even bigger world. And maybe we've gotten as close as we're supposed to get.

I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.

It takes certain kind of naiveté, or perhaps just stupidity, to know things will end and still hope otherwise.