I see all this talent, all this...this energy and brightness and...potential. Yes. Potential. And I cannot for the life of me see how you can be content to live this tiny life. This life that will take place almost entirely within a five mile radius and contain nobody who will ever surprise you or push you or show you things that will leave your head spinning and unable to sleep at night.

I was once told by someone wise that writing is perilous as you cannot always guarantee your words will be read in the spirit in which they were written.

Because even if the whole world was throwing rocks at you, if you still had your mother or father at your back, you'd be okay.

Real friends were the kind where you pick up where you'd left off, whether it be a week since you'd seen each other or two years.

I can't do this because I can't...I can't be the man I want to be with you. And that means that this - this just becomes...another reminder of what I am not.

Know that you hold my heart, my hopes, in your hands.

I thought, briefly, that I would never feel as intensely connected to the world, to another human being, as I did at that moment.