I want you and I hate wanting things and I especially hate admitting I want them.

I have no memory of climbing the stairs up to the roof. I don't even know how to get where I am, which is a problem since I'm going to have to get down, ideally in a way that doesn't involve dying.

The moment she was cursed, I lost her. Once it wears off- soon- she will be embarrassed to remember things that she said, things she did, things like this. No matter how solid she feels in my arms, she is made of smoke.

They say that nameless things change constantly—that names fix them in place like pins.

He looks like the good boy he's never been.

Everything was strange and beautiful and swollen with possibilities.

Changing is what people do when they have no options left.