Heart always wins out over the mind. The heart, although reckless and suicidal and a masochist all on its own, always gets its way.

Best friends, no matter what they do or how much they hurt you, it only hurts as much as it does because they are your best friend. And none of us are perfect. Mistakes were made for best friends to forgive; it’s what makes being a best friend official.

It’s my future and my life and I can’t make myself live the way someone else wants me to.

Yesterday I thought about why I felt the need to get up at exactly the same time as the day before and do everything I did the day before. Why? What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?

When we pull away, he rests his hand on my thigh pressed next to his and we ride like that for a long time; the only time he moves his hand is to take better control of a sharp curve or to adjust the music, but he always puts it right back. And I always want him to.

I think I've been afraid most of my life to be myself.

I think when you fall in love, like true love, it’s love for life. All the rest is just experiences and delusions.