Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

Warily, she dares to allow me a smile. "It's okay. It's just...I'm not too good at talking to people." She looks away again as her shyness smothers her. "So, do you think it'd be all right if we don't talk?

Have you ever noticed that idiots have a lot of friends? It's just an observation.

Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.

She was a girl with a mountain to climb.

Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.

Every time you find something that doesn't work, you're a step closer to what does work.