These days her entire life was about making people believe she was someone she wasn't anymore.

The truth doesn't always set you free; people prefer to believe prettier, neatley wrapped lies

Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.

There's a cliff at the end point of a person's life; most us of peer over the edge of it, hanging on. That's why, when someone chooses to let go, it's so dramatically visible. The body will seem almost transparent. The eys will be looking at something the rest of us can't see.

He is dark and quiet and completely different from me, which is exactly why I should put distance between us. But it is also the reason I find him so fascinating.

I grew up in a household where we didn't really talk about our feelings, and where the only reason you went to a doctor was because you'd accidentally cut off a limb with a chain saw.

Bleeding heart, he’d called her. Well. He should know. He’d been the first to rip it to pieces.