Hearts are fragile things. That's why you have to be so careful.

It's not my fault I can't be like you, okay? I don't get up in the morning thinking the world is one big, shiny, happy place, okay? That's just not how I work. I don't think I can be fixed.

We'll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will ever try to keep up apart.

Everything I see and touch reminds me of him, and so everything I see and touch is perfect.

We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.

I didn't realize then what a privilege that was: to be bored with your best friend; to have time to waste.

This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.