The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.

That's evolution. Evolution's always hard. Hard and bleak. No such thing as happy evolution

Perhaps I'm just too painstaking a type of person, but I can't grasp much of anything without putting down my thoughts in writing.

Silence, I discover, is something you can actually hear.

Time flows in strange ways on Sundays, and sights become mysteriously distorted.

Whenever I look at the ocean, I always want to talk to people, but when I'm talking to people, I always want to look at the ocean.

She's letting out her feelings. The scary thing is not being able to do that. When your feelings build up and harden and die inside, then you're in big trouble.