That's the thing about best friends. That's what they do. They keep you from spinning off the edge.

Love, the deadliest of all things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don't. But that isn't it, exactly. The condemner and the condemned. The executioner; the blade; the last-minute reprieve; the gasping breath and the rolling sky above you and the thank you, thank you, thank you God. Love: It will kill you and save you, both.

You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them. You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist. And there are many of us out there, more than you think. People who refuse to stop believing. People who refuse to come to earth. People who love in a world without walls, people who love into hate, into refusal, against hope, and without fear. I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.

The worst is knowing I can't tell anybody what's happening -or what's happened- to me. Not even my mom.

She was mine before she was yours.

I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.

I think of Grace and feel a sharp pain in my chest.