I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.

It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.

That's what time does: We stand stubbornly like rocks while it flows all around us, believing that we are immutable - and all the time we're being carved, and shaped, and whittled away.

I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind. But his hands keep pulling me back: into the alley, and Portland, and a world that has suddenly stopped making sense.

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

I hate both of my parents right now: for sitting quietly in our house, while out in the darkness my heart was beating away all of the seconds of my life, ticking them off one by one until my time was up; for letting the thread between us stretch so far and so thin that the moment it was severed for good they didn't even feel it.

A string of bright white buildinh, glistening like teeth over the slurping mouth of the ocean.