I feel like I’m broken—like I don’t fit together anymore. Like there’s no more room for me in the world or something. Like I’ve overstayed my welcome here on Earth, and everyone’s trying to give me hints about that constantly. Like I should just check out.

You need to know it's your actions that will make you a good person, not desire.

I think it's strange to live in a house with someone you cannot talk to-especially when that someone is your father-and the thought makes me a little sad.

You're different. And I'm different too. Different is good. But different is hard. Believe me, I know.

The only way to beat my crazy was by doing something even crazier. Thank you. I love you. I knew it from the moment I saw you. I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up.

What is reality if it isn't how we feel about things?

I want to believe that happiness might at least be possible later on in life for people prone to sadness.