I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.

Fourth period I have "life skills", which is what they call gym when you're old enough to be offended by forced physical activity (Elody thinks they should call it slavery instead, for accuracy).

Amor deliria nervosa isn't a disease of love. It's a disease of selfishness.

The memories seem like snapshots from someone else’s life.

There is so much fragility in kissing, in other people: It is all glass.

This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.

...and once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.