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

..all I left with was the magnitude of my mistake, of my missing you. And I have to watch you from this distance, watch you achieve your dreams, live what seemed like this perfect life.

Because that day with Willem, I may have pretended to be someone named Lulu, but I had never been more honest in my life. Maybe that's the thing with liberation. It comes at a price.

And I kissed him back so hard, like I was trying to merge our bodies through our lips.

Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

I realize it’s not just Willem I’m looking for; it’s Lulu too.

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?