He’s speaking in the tone of voice that everyone uses when they’re about to break you apart. Gentle—kind, even—like they can make the news sound better just by speaking in a lullaby voice.

What I meant was, you looked happier in the pictures.

Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.

They say that the cure for love will make me happy and safe forever. And I’ve always believed them. Until now. Now everything has changed. Now, I’d rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie

No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.

Unhappiness is bondage; therefore, happiness is freedom.

I don't understand how everything changes, how the layers of your life get buried. Impossible. At some point, at some time, we must all explode.