Tiffany and I are great friends, and I appreciate all that she is doing for me now. But she is not you. I still love you, Nikki. And you can’t control or alter true love.

Did you ever think about all of the nights you lived through and can't remember The ones that were so mundane your brain just didn't bother to record them. Hundreds, maybe thousands of nights come and go without being preserved by our memory. Does that ever freak you out? Like maybe your mind recorded all of the wrong nights?

The world will break your heart ten times till Sunday,that's guaranteed

My other friends are in music relaxation class, which I do not attend, because smooth jazz makes me angry sometimes.

When she needed help most, she was abandoned--and only when she offered help to others was she beloved.

Life is not a PG feel-good movie. Real life often ends badly.

She looks sad. She looks angry. She looks different from everyone else I know—she cannot put on that happy face others wear when they know they are being watched. She doesn’t put on a face for me, which makes me trust her somehow.