The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Water's death with was Augustus Waters.

my lungs sucked at being lungs.

The Colonel explained to me that 1. this was Alaska's room, and that 2. she had a single room because the girl who was supposed to be her roommate got kicked out at the end of last year, and that 3. Alaska had cigarettes, although the Colonel neglected to ask whether 4. I smoked, which 5. I didn't.

You matter as much as the things that matter to you. And I got so backwards trying to matter to him. All this time, there were real things to care about: real, good people who care about me, and this place. It's so easy to get stuck. You just get caught in being something, being special or cool or whatever, to the point where you don't even know why you need it; you just think you do.

I wish I knew how to quit you, Tumblr.

The United States Congress, like a lot of rich people, lives in two houses.

I don't really want to be the costar of anyone's life.