Her primary reason for living and my primary reason for living were awfully entangled.

... I didn't know whether to feel angry at her for making me part of her suicide or just to feel angry at myself for letting her go.

I'm not sure if I'm depressed. I mean, I'm not exactly sad. But I'm not exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, But sometimes when I'm alone at night I forget how to feel.

feeling - probably for the first time in my life - the fear and excitement of living in a place where you never know what's going to happen or when.

I mean, if Hardee's is urban, I'm not sure I want to see rural.

I could try to pretend that I didn't care anymore, but it could never be true again. You can't just make yourself matter, and then die, Alaska, because now, I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice.

I didn't want to look at them, so I looked away, and to look away was to look at Augustus.