And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.

I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.

This was not a spurr-of-the-moment decision. Do not take me for granted... again.

When you hold people up for ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it.

And everyone knows you can’t disprove a rumor.

After all, how often do we get a second chance?

You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have is...now.