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

My sister has the heart of an artist with a hatchet and an eye patch. And I, we both now know, have a heart that is undeniably, irreparably different.

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.

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

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

I follow, always, because its the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when Im certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.

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.