And if I'm not forgiven, then at least I'm understood.

But what if Shakespeare― and Hamlet― were asking the wrong question? What if the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?

In the calculus of feelings, you never really know how one person's absence will affect you more than another's.

Even going to jail would be easy compared to losing you.

It feels like the city is telling secrets down here, privy only to those who think to listen.

By that point, it’ll have been more than year since I met Lulu. Any sane person would say it’s too late. It already felt too late that first day, when I woke up in the hospital. But even so, I’ve kept looking. I’m still looking.

I'm so tired of missing things I don't have.