There was no logic or any sense of purpose except that I knew I had to do something other than what I was doing, or I might not make it through this.

Just because one person's problem is less traumatic than another's doesn't mean they're required to hurt less

I’m not a follower. I never have been. But I’ll definitely become someone I’m not for a few hours if it’ll make me blend in rather than make me a blatant eye sore and draw attention.

What you wear doesn't really matter much. All that matters is where you're going what you're doing while you're wearing it.

I don't know myself. I don't know what I want or how I feel or how I should feeland I don't think I ever really have.

Parents have this twisted belief that anyone under the age of about twenty simply can’t know what love is, like the age to love is assessed in the same way the law assesses the legal age to drink. They think that the ‘emotional growth’ of a teenager’s mind is too underdeveloped to understand love, to know if it’s ‘real’ or not.

It’s like irresistible poison: I’m mesmerized by the way it’s making me feel though it has the potential to crush my soul and I drink it down anyway.