It feels like a punch. Tears fill my eyes, and I wonder how I could be upset over losing something I never had.
Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.
I imagine how cool it would be if all small talk wasn't lies.
The ideas choose me, not the other way around.
It takes two people to make a friendship work
He gently touched his mother's cheek, felt her sorrow slip over his fingertips.