When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?

You told me I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating or accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror.

Here's a tip. If you touch a girl, even as joke, and she pushes you off, leave... her... alone. Don't touch her. Anywhere! Just stop. Your touch does nothing but sicken her.

One little ripple started today could create a typhoon fifteen years from now.

‎Because if I hadn't been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive.

The longer you wait, and this is true, the slower the hands will move.

Because I've heard so many stories that I don't know which one is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.