You get all these friends just when you don’t need friends anymore.

As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

I wanted to, you know, get my story out in the world, which, it turns out, is a very misguided notion.

He loved the scratching of pencil against paper when he was focused: it meant something was happening.

I smiled. She smiled. I believed the smile.

Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.

It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one she loved. And I knew I wasn’t. I knew it, and I hated her for it. I hated her for not caring about me. I hated her for leaving that night, and I hated myself , too, not only because I let her go but because if I had been enough for her, she wouldn’t have even wanted to leave. She would have just lain with me and talked and cried, and I would have listened and kissed at her tears as they pooled in her eyes.