The first time she kissed me, I truly thought I'd had an aneurysm - my pulse was thundering so loud and my senses were exploding. This, I remember thinking, the only word I could hold on to in a sea of feelings.

In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own. Or at least this is what I tell myself.

let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: it solidfies into something wlaw. not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. no, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tounge that you realize this is angel in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measyred and spread.

I thought lightning wasn't supposed to strike in the same place twice....sure it does...but only if you're too dumb to move.

She became whoever she needed to be to survive,but she never let anyone else define her.

You can’t keep yourself from falling in love, but you can steer yourself away from the wrong people.

When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.