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.

I expertly angled my raison bran to accomodate the g-forces.

You're not boring. You've got to stop saying that, or people will start believing you.

He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. "You're so hot," I said, my hand still on his leg. "I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish," he answered, still kissing me. I laughed. "I have an Augustus Waters fetish," I explained.

While I did not fancy myself a particularly good person, I never thought my first real sexual action would be prostitutional.

Night falls fast. Today is the past.

Eternity bids thee to forget.