I wanted to know what it was like to be a drug addict, and have an eating disorder, and have a loved one die, and fall in love. I saw my friends going through these things, I saw the world going through these things, and I needed to understand them. I needed to make sense of them. Books didn’t make me wallow in darkness, darkness made me wallow in books, and it was books that showed me there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Making fake promises while wearing a fancy dress... that isn't enough. Promises take more work than that.

The cruelest thing, hope, the way it strings you along, the way it makes you believe.

It's just that it's impossible to be a broken or whole person. You can only be a person. You can only exist, you can only belong to yourself, and you can only be responsible for your own happiness or belonging or whatever. That broken-part-piece-whole thing is just a trick of the mortal mind.

Maybe all you can do, when your world is burning, is hold on to the thing you love the most.

I am confident, I am capable, and I will not wait to be rescued by a woodsman or a hunter.

I'm friggin' awesome! So screw the haters!