a public persona that might be different from what we truly feel inside... everyone wonders if they are good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, no matter how old they are. It is an archetypical moral dilemma - Do you act like yourself and risk becoming an outcast?

Sometimes it made her want to put her fist through glass; other times, it made her cry a river.

No matter who you are, there is always some part of you that wishes you were someone else, and when, for a millisecond, you get that wish, it's a miracle.

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

It's crazy, right? To love someone who's hurt you? It's even crazier to think that someone who hurts you loves you.

You'd think someone who'd been to medical school would be able to hear through a stethoscope that somebody was empty inside.

Do you remember the summer we signed you up for camp? And the night before you left, you said you've changed your mind and wanted to stay home? I told you to to get a seat on the left side of the bus, so when you pulled away, you'd be able to look back and see me there waiting for you." I press her hand against my cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. "You get that same seat in Heaven. One where you can watch me, watching you.