If you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all.

The sky is like a monochromatic contemporay painting, drawing me in its illusion of depth, pulling me up.

She said 'I love you' as if it were a secret, and an immense one.

People are supposed to care. It's good that people mean something to you, that you miss people when they're gone.

Leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can't do that until your life has grown roots.

You can't just make me different, and then leave. Because I was fine before, Alaska. I was just fine with me and last words and school friends, and you can't just make me different and then die.

When you're walking home at night, do you even get creeped out and even though it's silly and embarrassing you just want to run home?" It seemed too secret and personal to admit to virtual stranger, but I told her, "Yeah, totally." For a moment, she was quiet. Then she grabbed my hand, whispered, "Run run run run run," and took off, pulling me behind her.