Miracles don't happen. You make them happen. They're not wishes or dreams or candles on a cake. They're not impossible. Reality is real. It's totally and completely under my control.
At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.
I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.
Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
No one else knows I'm alive, which means they won't notice when I'm gone.
What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?